


Ohne Dich

by Rose_the_Hat



Series: October Rust [5]
Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Crimes & Criminals, Implied Violence, M/M, Organized Crime, Suicidal Thoughts, just trust me, multiple character deaths
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-06
Updated: 2021-02-06
Packaged: 2021-03-18 07:22:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 31,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29239773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rose_the_Hat/pseuds/Rose_the_Hat
Summary: In which Jared is seriously hurt and Jensen breaks down.
Relationships: Jensen Ackles/Jared Padalecki
Series: October Rust [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1938799
Comments: 26
Kudos: 62





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Final installment in the October Rust ‘Verse. Previous reading is necessary. 
> 
> The Power Behind the Throne was just supposed to be a one-shot PWP about a mob boss who was submissive to his subordinate. As I worked on it, it got more plotty. Then, I wrote the sequel, King Nothing. Then I wrote a timestamp, and a sequel to that. Now, I give you the finale. 
> 
> Thank you to anyone and everyone who has read, commented, or left kudos. Thank you to Jen, for looking things over (and over and over) and listening, and for providing art. She’s a great lady. 
> 
> Title comes from a song by the German industrial metal band Rammstein.

“How do I look?” Jensen asked of his husband of twelve years; lover, partner, friend, and Enforcer of thirty-two years. _Thirty-two years_. Jesus Christ, it still had the power to surprise him. Over three decades they have shared their life together and tonight they were getting ready to start the next phase: retirement.

Jared turned from the mirror where he was tying his tie to grin at Jensen. His vulpine eyes, now with more wrinkles at the corners, moved over Jensen’s body with hunger and lust. “You, Jensen Ackles are a fucking silver fox.” He sauntered over to Jensen, placed his hands on Jensen’s hips. “We got time for a quickie?”

Jensen throws his head back and laughs. “I’m fifty-eight and you are fifty-four. Quickies take a little more time than they used to.” 

Jared looks crestfallen but bends and kisses Jensen on the mouth. “Happy Birthday, baby,” he said against Jensen’s lips.

“Ugh. Don’t remind me,” he playfully pushes Jared away to regard himself one final time in the mirror. He doesn’t feel like a man pushing sixty. His hair, while totally silver, is still full and thick. He’s still reasonably trim; his only problem area is his belly, as it always has been, but he no longer stresses about it. He still feels pretty good overall, though his joints are a little stiffer than they used to be, and it takes a little more effort to get up and get going in the morning. He really can’t complain. 

He glances at Jared and his heart does that sped up flip-flop it always performs when he looks at the man he loves, the man he lives for. Jared’s still got the body of a god, still well-defined and leanly muscled. He has shed some of the bulk in the last few years, going from two-hundred twenty to around one-hundred ninety. He had developed a nagging pain in his back and arthritis in his knees that inhibits the strenuous workouts he used to do. Jared keeps his hair long—not as long as he had it in his thirties—and it still has streaks of mahogany, but for the most part his hair was iron grey.

Jared wraps his arms around Jensen and nuzzles his neck. “You look amazing, Jense. You always have.”

Jensen sighs and leans heavily against Jared. They do not have time for this, but he never could resist Jared when he turns up the heat.

“Love you, baby,” Jared’s hands wander down from his waist, to his hip, and one big hand cupping Jensen’s stirring cock.

“Jared…”

“Jay?” Colin pokes his head in before coming into the room completely. “Oh, my fucking God. You guys can’t keep your hands off each other yet? In your fucking fifties and still no self control.”

Jared’s seductive spell is very firmly broken, they move apart.

“Watch it, Kid,” Jared says. “This is _our_ room, _our_ house, and you _did not_ knock,” his voice is firm and his eyes are hard as he meets Colin’s.

Colin, now in his mid-thirties, is not easily intimidated, but still has a healthy respect for Jared’s authority. “You’re right, Jay. I apologize, but come on, no kid wants to see their parents going at it. That one time was enough.” Colin shudders theatrically. 

“Did you come in here because you actually want something?” Jensen challenges, because he could be getting a blow job, a rim job, or a good old-fashioned hand job if Colin hadn’t interrupted things. 

“Yeah. Jay, _please_ try to talk Ems out of wearing the green dress she’s got on.”

Jared looks just as horrified as Colin. “With her hair and skin tone? Oh, that’s a bad look.” Jared strides out of the room without another word. 

Colin and Jensen share a laugh. “He’s gonna have a stroke when he sees her dress,” Colin says. “I think it’s called Chartreuse.”

Though the party was for Jensen’s fifty-eighth birthday, it was really about Colin ascending to the head of the Ackles Organization while Jensen and Jared would finally be retiring to their private island in the Caribbean. Jensen had bought and given it to Jared on their fifth wedding anniversary. In the intervening years they had a luxury villa constructed, sparing no expense, and an over the water bungalow. They were close to the Florida coast and the Bahamas in case of an emergency and for easy access to supplies, or a little getaway. Jensen had—after ascertaining with wildlife experts that the island was suitable—transported a small flock of pink flamingos to their island, just for Jared.

After the hellish year and a half he and Jared were more than ready for a life of leisure. Jensen was almost as excited as Jared to begin this new phase of their life: a life of peace and bliss and lazy days on the beach—with plenty of sunscreen for Jensen. Jensen had developed a taste for sailing and deep sea fishing after their honeymoon and had bought an eighty-nine foot yacht and planned to spend a lot of time on it with his trusty co-captain—even if said co-captain didn’t know fore from aft or port from starboard. Jensen had the rest of their lives to teach Jared.

“How you been, son?” Jensen asks, gazing at Colin. Thirty-six years old, tall, strong, ruthless and capable. The Organization was in good hands. Yet, sometimes when he looked at Colin he still saw the skinny, wary seventeen year old instead of the man in front of him. 

“Great, Dad. You and Jay?”

“We’re good. And ready to be done with this.”

Colin’s blue eyes, usually cold, warmed with sympathy. “I know. You and Jay deserve your rest.”

Jensen sighs, the weight of grief and guilt sitting heavily on him. “I just…there are men who should be here tonight. Good men. The fucking Marchesis—” Jensen breaks off clenching his hands into fists. Getting angry won’t do any good now. The war with the Sicilian Family was over. Colin had seen to that, ended it once and for all, but it didn’t make the loss of Jensen’s friends any easier to stomach. 

“We’re still standing, Dad, and the Marchesis are fucking _gone_.”

“I regret that.”

“Well, I don’t.” Colin says harshly, a little bit of his moniker, Stone-Cold Colin, peeking through. “The men we buried were my friends too, my mentors. The Marchesis brought it and I finished it. Anyway, it wasn’t on Lazaro; you and Lazaro were always cordial. That’s why I agreed to defend him on those murder charges. The shit that went down was because of his fucking kids. A whole passel of Fredo Corleones who thought they were Michaels.”

Jensen smiles; that was an analogy Jared would have appreciated. Colin was right, however; the war with the Marchesis had nothing to do with the old head of the Family. Lazaro had even warned Jensen about his kids.

_The Marchesi mansion rivaled the Ackles Compound mansion in elegance if not in size. The house was a two story Italianate, made of strong red brick with white trim around the arched windows and the ornate cornices. The upper story had a balustrade balcony and through the wide bay window, Jensen could see a man sitting and watching as they approached the small columned porch._

_Jensen could feel the excitement coming off Jared, though he was outwardly stoic and cold. Nearly twenty-nine years in the life and he was still as enchanted with the lifestyle as the day they met. Jensen thought it cute, if a bit ridiculous, because Jared has met Lazaro Marchesi a few times over the years. Never mind the fact that Jared himself was a feared underworld figure married to the head of the most powerful crime syndicate in the south._

_Jensen rang the bell and immediately a petite pretty maid opened the door. Without a word she ushered them through the foyer and up the sweeping staircase. When they reached the second floor landing they were led down a long hallway. The maid leaves them at a wide walnut door being bookended by two guards. Both are compact and muscular if shorter than Jensen, but only a fool would easily dismiss someone because of their stature. Their chiseled olive-skinned faces are impassive but their gazes are watchful._

_“Mr. Ackles and Mr. Ackles,” the guard on the left greets._

_“Gentlemen,” Jensen nods. “I am not armed, but Jared is,” Jensen says, hoping to stave off a frisking. Jared loathes being pawed at or touched by strangers. Jared brings out his pet .357 from his holster and hands it over. The guard on the right takes it, and the guard on the left opens the heavy door._

_Lazaro Marchesi was sitting in a chair by the wide window. He was in his early seventies but looked older because of the cancer ravaging his body. He was dressed in a timeless black suit but it didn’t fit quite right, too baggy around the shoulders and chest. His grey hair was thinning and his heavy square face had the floppy look of a deflated balloon because of his sudden weight loss. His eyes glowed with cunning and fierce intelligence of a man who had seen and done much. The last time Jensen had seen him was over a year ago, when Colin had been representing him at his murder trial. He had been a massive man, wide and broad, nearing three-hundred pounds, and his Armani had strained to contain him. In a distant way it hurt Jensen to see this powerful man so frail and wasted._

_The maid departed, closing the door with a soft click behind her. Jared approached the ailing man in the chair. “Don Marchesi,” Jared greeted bowing and kissing the man’s ring._

_Lazaro smiled, “Ahh, Jared, ever the respecter of tradition. I welcome you to my home.” He turned his brown eyes to Jensen. “And Jensen.” He extended a bony hand. Jensen took it and firmly shook it. He did not let his alarm show at the seeming fragility of the hand taking his nor the weakness behind the grip. “You are looking well. Marriage suits you.” Lazaro motioned to the chair across from him._

_“Thank you,” Jensen let go of the delicate hand and sat, crossing his leg over the opposite ankle. Jared stood behind him, straight and silent, hands clasped in front of him, firmly in his role of Enforcer, and not doting husband. “We’re very happy, Lazaro.”_

_“Might I offer some espresso? I believe we have some cannoli as well. Perhaps biscotti?”_

_“Espresso would be welcome, Lazaro,” Jensen said graciously._

_The mafia Don rang for the maid and she appeared with two tiny cups of the strong bitter drink. Jensen took a sip, savoring the flavor. He could imagine Jared, who put a gallon of fucking cream in his fucking coffee, grimacing. “Marvelous,” he praised._

_Lazaro took a sip from his own cup, but his mouth twisted and he sat the tiny cup down. “Goddamn cancer,” he spat._

_Jensen knew better than to offer sympathy or platitudes. Lazaro Marchesi was a proud man and would tolerate neither._

_He gazed at Jensen with clear brown eyes, breathing heavily through whatever pain the sip of espresso had induced. “We have been friends for many many years, Jensen,” Lazaro said. Jensen thinks “friends” is a very loose way of putting it but lets it go. Lazaro didn’t invite him here to shoot the shit over coffee. He had something to say. Jensen will let him tell it his own way._

_“Our fathers were friends. I wish our children could have been such.” Lazaro Marchesi had four children: Mateo, Vincenzo, and his twins, Angelo and Angelina. They were a bit closer to Jensen’s age than Colin’s. They had attended St. Ignatius Catholic School while Jensen had gone to Chilton Prep. Jensen didn’t know them on a personal level but would recognize them if he saw them. “They should have been friends after the way your boy pulled my old ass out of the fire.” Lazaro coughed into a handkerchief and Jensen noted the blood._

_Uneasiness was starting to crawl up his spine. Lazaro was a dying man and Jensen knew sickness and death could tear a gash wide open even in the closest of families. He kept his face placid and neutral. “Yes. Colin made partner after that trial. Jared and I are very proud of him.”_

_“Smart boy,” Lazaro said. “Respectful like your husband, like all the associates I’ve met from your Organization.” He sounded musing on top, troubled beneath. “I regret to say some in my Family are not as respectful._

_“My boys and my girl…. I tried to raise them right!” He slams a fist down onto the arm of his chair. Face a grimace of pain and barely controlled rage. “Instill in them a sense of tradition and respect! I can’t even lie to myself and say it is a generational thing, because your boy is of the same generation and he is unfailingly respectful.”_

_“What are you saying, Don Marchesi?” Jared asks moving to stand beside Jensen instead of behind him._

_The old Don’s eyes move from Jensen and up to Jared. Sick as he obviously is, he puts Jensen in mind of an old ill-tempered bear with one last lethal swipe left in him, and he delivers it._

_“I want you to know, Jensen, Jared, that it doesn’t come from me, nor with my blessing, and I offer no protection. You understand?” His brown eyes, more akin to black pits in a skull, burn with anger. Jensen realizes it’s to Jared, his muscle, his interrogator, his executioner, that the old Don is actually addressing._

_Jensen glances up at Jared, observes the way his well groomed brows are drawn together in a small frown. He nods once in grave understanding. Jensen understands as well. The old Don just declared open season on anyone from his Family if they move against the Ackles Organization._

_Two weeks later Lazaro Marchesi died._

_A day after the old Don was laid to rest, the first incursions in Ackles controlled territory began._

“Fashion crisis averted,” Jared proclaims coming back into the room and pulling Jensen away from the past. “Emma has agreed to forgo the atrocious chartreuse dress in favor of the black Chanel.”

“I knew you’d make her see reason, Jay,” Colin says, heading toward the door. “Better hurry or you’ll be late to your own party.

“Just remember, you’re on your own for the next fashion crisis because I won’t be here to help.”

They began one phase of their life at the Rosewood Mansion on Turtle Creek, it seemed only right that they should start another one here as well. Unlike their wedding however, Jensen did not buy out the entire hotel. There wasn’t really a need. They reserved the biggest event room—the King Sheppard—for the rest of the night and a block of suites on the fourth floor if anyone couldn’t make it home safely. 

Servers circulated with trays of appetizers and flutes of champagne. There was an open bar and food was being served buffet-style. The party would no doubt last through the night but Jared and Jensen would be gone after an hour or two. Jensen would make a speech and listen to a few toasts, looking appropriately modest, have a piece of cake, maybe even dance—if Jared’s achy back and knees felt up to it—then they would stealthily slip away. 

The guest list was a who’s who of Dallas high-society, underworld and political alike. The unwritten rule was if you were here you were showing allegiance to Colin Ackles as the new head of the Ackles Organization. Jensen was relieved to see that everyone from high-powered business figures, senators and the Governor were in attendance. Not that he suspected there would be a problem with the transition of power. Colin had been running things pretty much in all but name for the last several months, The only thing he sought Jensen’s permission on was the okay to take out the Marchesi family.

Everyone was dressed to the nines, diamonds glittered on hands, wrists, and throats. Jared was probably the best dressed man in the room—not that Jensen was in any way biased. He wore a Dior suit, complemented with an aquamarine waistcoat and matching silk tie. The classy bastard had even worn spats on his shoes. 

The IC were mixing and mingling, though the group looked very different now. Colin’s friends, Alexander Calvert and Gattlin Griffith were mixed in with Tommy Blue, Mad Mike, and Lazy Jace. Alex was lean and wiry and worked the loan sharking rackets. Gattlin, also called Gatling Gun because he was an expert marksman, was stout and compact of build, and worked with Brock in the gun running operation. Dotted around the room were many of Colin’s people: Kathryn ‘Kitty Kat’ Newton and Dylan Everett who had taken over the Fencing and Chop Shop operations, Nicholas ‘Nicky Numbers’ Elia who worked under DJ Qualls in the gambling outfits, and Osric Chu who was his hacker and tech expert, alongside Aldis. Jensen sighed, missing those who were lost in the war with the Marchesis, but his Organization was getting an infusion of new blood while still being rooted in Jensen’s most treasured values: loyalty and respect. He had instilled the importance of those things into Colin and Colin would carry them into the future. 

Jensen stood off to the side of the room, observing as Colin and Jared worked the room, mingling and effortlessly charming everyone. Jared was in his element, chatting easily with Senator Kripke while Colin was talking to Governor Manners. Then, his gaze landed on Emma, who was smiling at the Chief of Police, Charles Malik Whitfield, gesturing to the two drinks in her hands. Whitfield gave a friendly nod and turned to draw someone more willing into conversation. Jensen had a few things in common with his daughter-in-law, a quiet reserved attitude chief among them. He had mistaken that quality for unease when Colin first brought her home to meet him and Jared.

_Jensen’s ass was on the dining table and his legs were around Jared’s waist as they devoured each other’s mouth. “Should—ughn—not be do-doing this,” Jensen gasped as Jared ground their hard cocks together through the layers of their clothes. His actions of pulling Jared closer and wrapping himself tighter around his husband belied his admonishing words._

_“Don’t care,” Jared said moving down Jensen’s neck, licking and sucking, his hands moving across Jensen’s broad back._

_“Col-Colin and Brock will be here soon” Jensen gasped out as Jared’s wandering hand reached between his legs to cup his erection._

_“So hard for me, baby.”_

_Jensen moaned, “Always. Make me goddamn crazy,” Jensen says attempting to untangle himself from Jared. But instead he sinks his fingers into Jared’s hair—he’s letting it grow out again and Jensen liked the short look he missed the long locks—and presses their mouths together._

_Jared pushes Jensen back so he’s flat on the table and pulls back, beginning to tug his shirt from his slacks and unbuckle his belt. Jared’s pants fall down his long legs, his hard cock pressing against his Armani underwear, already a damp spot where Jared has leaked precum. Jensen bit his lip and gazed up at his husband._

_Jared draped himself over Jensen, fitting himself easily between Jensen’s spread thighs and began kissing him again, deep thorough kisses, nipping at Jensen’s lips with his teeth and soothing the sting with his clever tongue. His hands reaching for Jensen’s belt and zipper._

_“Jared, Jare…we can’t,” Jensen pleaded, fighting desperately to hold on to reason. With Jared it was so easy to just let go, had always been, but it was family dinner night and Colin could come in at any time. “Jared. Jared, stop,” Jensen said putting a little Big Boss Man in his voice. If Jared continued his sensual assault, Jensen would invoke his safeword. But he needn’t. Jared pulled away immediately, gazing at Jensen in concern._

_“Did I hurt you?”_

_“No, Jared, never,” Jensen said still a little breathless and cock aching between his thighs as he slid off the table. “We really can’t do this now. Just…put it on the back burner. After Colin and Brock are gone you can fuck me into oblivion on this table if you want to.”_

_Jared smirks. “I’ll want to.” His eyes rake over Jensen’s body hungrily._

_Jensen shudders._

_As they are putting their clothing to rights, Amy Gumenick, their housekeeper, enters. Their previous housekeeper, Samantha Smith, to Jensen’s happy surprise, had married ol’ Doc Morgan. That sly old fox had lured away Samantha and with her went her tasty pies and Jared’s favorite cookies. For a wedding gift, Jensen had given them the penthouse apartment in an exclusive high-rise complex he had invested in. Ms. Gumenick was doing a more than admirable job of filling Samantha’s shoes._

_“Mr. and Mr. Ackles, I wanted to let you know that the eggplant parmigiana needs a bit more time. I apologize.”_

_“Don’t worry about it, honey,” Jared says, snugging his Windsor knotted tie back to his throat. “Colin’s not even here yet.”_

_Amy blushed prettily and scampered back into the kitchen. “She’s sweet on you, Jare,” Jensen said slyly._

_“I know. Thought I’d give her a thrill.” He sweeps Jensen back into his embrace and nuzzles his neck. “Give you an even bigger one later. Very big.”_

_“Fucking hell, guys. Damn.” Is Colin’s greeting._

_Jared releases Jensen. Heated promise of what is to come—no pun infuckingtended—later in his eyes. “Love is a beautiful thing, Colin,” he says glibly. “And your dad and I are not afraid to show it.”_

_“Why do I always have to walk in while you’re “showing it”? You have an exhibition kink or something?” He holds up a big hand. “_ Do not _answer that.” Colin affects a shudder and rolls his eyes and turns his attention to Jensen. “Hey, Dad.”_

_“Hey, son,” Jensen wraps the younger man in a warm hug._

_Colin had graduated Stanford Law a month ago, and was in the process of relocating back to Dallas. Once he was settled, he would begin practicing law at the firm of Richings, Welliver, Frewer, and Otis . Julian had retired from the firm, but was still on retainer for the Organization, and had personally extended Colin the invitation to work for his firm. Colin was determined to work hard and make partner in five years. Given his connections he could be given the position but Colin was adamant that he wanted to earn it._ “Not you, not Jay, or any of the guys pulling the strings behind the scenes, Dad. I will know.” _Colin had told him that after his commencement ceremony. Jensen was content to fade away and let Colin find and forge his own path._

_When Jensen releases him, Colin turns to Jared. Jensen gazes at the pair of them, noting that the older Colin gets the more he reminds Jensen of a younger version of Jared. Four more years have wrought more, if subtler, changes in his surrogate son. His lanky frame has filled out with lean muscle. His height had topped out at six foot two, not quite reaching Jared’s six foot five. His hair which had been a honey blond had darkened further and was closer to brown, though it still had sun bleached streaks in it from the California sun. He still dressed impeccably, having adopted Jared’s fashion sense almost from the first night he moved into the Ackles Compound mansion._

_“Jayrad. Wha’dya hear wha’dya say?” He slaps his hand into Jared’s and Jared draws the young man into a one-armed back-pounding hug._

_“You look good, Kid,” Jared greets, giving Colin’s suit with an appraising eye. “D &G?”_

_Colin grins, and though he is nearing thirty, his smile is still disarmingly boyish. “How does he always know?” Colin asks of Jensen._

_“Because he’s a goddamn label queen.”_

_“To hell with both of you unfashionable bastards,” Jared says without heat._

_Now that greetings have been exchanged, Jensen notices that Brock was not in the room. Brock and Colin have been attending regular “family dinner nights” every few months, whenever Colin could get away from school, since they got together. Jensen had wanted to reassure Colin he was supportive of him, whoever he loved, and show Brock that he was welcome in the intimate family fold. He is about to ask where Brock is and if they should hold dinner for him, when the man enters the dining room._

_“Sirs,” Brock says, shaking hands with both Jared and Jensen. His posture is stiff and his manner more reserved than it has been since he and Colin told them about their relationship. Those are not the only observations that Jensen makes. There is a—not a coldness necessarily—but a distance and formality that is foreign. Maybe they had a fight or something else is going on between them. Jensen is curious but he will not pry, knowing that Colin is as private about his love life as Jensen is himself._

_Jensen glances to Jared, picking up the question in Jared’s eyes: what’s going on with the other couple?_

_“I’m not gonna fake or bullshit,” Colin says. He glances to Brock in askance and the other man nods. “Brock and I have decided to call it quits.”_

_“I’m sorry to hear that, Colin, Brock,” Jensen says with sincerity. Jensen would be lying if he thought this thing with Colin and Brock was going to last forever. Not only because of the age difference but other than the business, Brock and Colin didn’t seem to have much in common. However, Jensen could attest that the Organization was a hell of a thing to have in common. And you could never judge a relationship by what you saw on the outside._

_“It’s for the best, Sirs,” Brock says. “We’ve been moving in different directions for awhile now and thought it best to end things while we can still be friends and have no hard feelings.”_

_“You don’t owe us any explanation,” Jensen says. “The only thing I care about is that this won’t cause any friction within business matters.”_

_“No, sir,” Brock says with a nod._

_“Well, sit,” Jensen says, motioning to the seat Brock usually occupies during their family dinners. “Unless you don’t want to join us for dinner?”_

_Brock does sit, but across from Colin instead of beside him. “I do think this will be the last time I come for dinner. Again, sirs, no hard feelings, but with Colin and I not being together I don’t feel right coming to a family dinner. I hope this won’t affect my position.”_

_“You and Colin tell me things are cordial between you, that’s what I’ll believe. I’m not going to be so petty as to remove you from your position because your personal relationship with my son has ended.” He glances at Colin, but damn that kid has really got his facial expressions on lockdown these days. He is unreadable. “Just keep things moving and everyone will be happy.”_

_Brock smiles. “Can do, Boss.” He winks at Colin. Colin’s expression cracks and he smiles. Jensen feels tension go out of the room._

_Time passes and Colin continues to come for dinner, usually every two weeks. He gets his name in the papers several times for winning big criminal cases. There are whispers from time to time about his relationship to the (alleged) Ackles crime syndicate but, nothing can ever be proven. He is featured in publications like the ABA Journal and The American Lawyer several times, even writing articles for them on occasion. He has an easy grace like Jensen when speaking at press conferences and can pour on the charm, like Jared, and the cameras love him. He, like Jensen before him, was named Dallas’ Most eligible bachelor. He dates both women and men, usually people in the upper echelons of Dallas society, movers and shakers like himself, but no one he seems serious about._

_When Colin’s thirtieth birthday rolls around, he demurs to the lavish party Jensen wants to give him in favor of an intimate family dinner night, but, for the first time since he and Brock ended things roughly two years ago, he doesn’t come alone. Jensen and Jared know immediately that this is someone Colin is serious about otherwise he wouldn’t have brought her._

_She was a tall slender blonde with a sharp jaw, narrow nose and sharp blue-grey eyes. Her long hair was pulled back in a low pony at the back of her neck. She appeared to be close to Colin’s age of thirty, maybe a couple of years younger. Her clothes, a pencil skirt and silk blouse, are very stylish but not designer. She held Colin’s hand and was trying her best to appear either impassive or unimpressed with the richness of the Ackles Compound mansion and she was failing. Her eyes lingered on the teak wood table, the crystal chandelier, the heavy silver cutlery, and bone china plates. She was a little intimidated but in control._

_“Dad, Jay, this is Emma Grabinsky.” He gazed down at Emma, and Jensen knew she was The One. The love and tenderness radiating from his eyes was obvious. He had never seen Colin look at anyone they way he was looking at Emma. Here in his familial home he felt safe enough to let his guard down and his love for the woman beside him became obvious and hers for him. “Emma, that’s my dad, Jensen Ackles, and his husband, Jared. My family.”_

_“Good evening, Mr. and Mr. Ackles. It’s great to meet you,” Emma says, her voice pretty and musical, she extends a delicate hand for a shake._

_“Charmed, Ms. Grabinsky,” Jared says giving her a little bow and kissing her extended hand._

_Jensen grins and rolls his eyes at Jared’s gallant antics. “Ms. Grabinsky, welcome to our home.” He takes her hand and shakes it._

_Whatever nervousness she feels seems to fade and she flashes a genuine charming smile. “You can call me Emma. Colin talks about you both all the time. You both are exactly like he described you,” she gushes._

_Jensen cuts his eyes to Jared, knows Jared is wondering the same thing he is: how much does she know._

_It wouldn’t be out of the realm of possibility that Colin hasn’t told her the extent of his involvement in the Organization. Most people in Texas have at least some knowledge or suspicion of anyone with the last name of Ackles, and with Colin considered to be Jensen’s son that suspicion is doubled. Perhaps she wasn’t from Texas, or the south at all. If Colin has told her she appears unfazed by the knowledge her boyfriend is a crime lord, which makes her a very interesting woman indeed. He’s sure Colin has looked into her background and vetted her, but Jensen will get Aldis and Lindberg on it just in case._

_Jensen was still considered the head of the Ackles Organization, but more and more he was stepping away. He still oversaw the more intricate operations, the gun running and drug trade, but Colin pretty much had taken charge of everything else in the last few years, adding his own people to Kane, Tommy Blue, Stevie Guitar, Lazy Jase and Mad Mike’s crews. Colin ran the gambling, fencing, and chop shops. He carried out executions and interrogations. According to Jared, Colin’s techniques were much more cerebral in their brutality. Jared spoke like a proud father about Colin’s interrogation techniques. More than one occasion Mad Mike had taken Colin to meet his contacts in Mexico and Colombia. More and more people in their circles were realizing that Jensen “Ice-Cold” Ackles was backing away, and his son Colin Ackles was stepping up._

_“Please, sit, and dinner will be out shortly,” Jensen invites, taking his seat at the head of the table._

_Jared gallantly moves the chair beside Colin’s usual place to Jensen’s left out for her._

_“God, Jared,” Colin grumps. “Trying to show me up in front of my lady?” He shoulder checks Jared away and invites Emma to sit._

_“No, Kid, I’m trying to show you how a gentleman acts.” He claps Colin upside the head and returns to his own seat to Jensen’s right._

_Emma smiles and her cheeks flush a pretty pink as she takes her seat. She is utterly smitten with Jared and obviously in love with Colin. She seems a little intimidated by Jensen. Jensen is a reserved man, and knows that he can come off as cold to new people, but this woman is important to Colin and Jensen wants her to feel at ease, and he doesn’t have Jared’s gift of being able to instantly charm people the way Jared does. Most of Jared’s charm is a surface affectation he learned as a teenager and uses it to his advantage._

_“Y’all been together long?” Jared asks. Jensen knows that Jared is going to act as a buffer until Emma acclimates to Jensen and he loves him for it._

_“Ten months,” Emma chirps and beams at Colin. Jensen will be damned if his boy’s cheeks don’t flush a little._

_“How’d y’all meet?” Jensen asks, cordially enough he thinks, but reconsiders when Emma glances at Colin, either in askance or for guidance, her grey-blue eyes inquiring. There is a bit of tension and Jensen surmises that it revolves around that very question._

_“She works as a paralegal at my firm, Dad.”_

_Jensen and Jared exchange glances. That puts a different spin on things. Richings, Welliver, Frewer, and Otis has long been in the pocket of the Ackles Organization. If she works at the firm she probably knows the score. Jensen gives the woman an appraising stare. He licks his lips. “Then, I take it you know who we are, and what we do?”_

_Emma locks eyes with him and gives a nod. “Yes, sir.”_

_“Good to know,” Jared cuts in. “But we don’t talk business at family dinner night anyway.”_

_Two months after that introductory dinner Colin and Emma quietly marry. A year later Jensen’s first grandchild, a son that Colin and Emma named Jaysen Gerald Alan Ackles was born. Their daughter, Megan Sharon Ackles was born two years later. After successfully defending Lazaro Marchesi on murder and racketeering charges, Colin achieves his dream and makes partner. Richings, Welliver, Frewer, and Otis, becomes Richings, Welliver, Frewer, Otis and Ackles._

“Hi, Jensen,” Emma greeted. She looked gorgeous in a black Chanel halter dress with deep neckline showcasing her round breasts and an asymmetrical hem showing off her long legs. Jared definitely had great taste be it in men’s clothes or women’s. She had minimally accessorized with diamond stud earrings and a sapphire pendant at her throat. She had a colorful cocktail and handed Jensen a glass of scotch.

“Em,” Jensen gave his daughter-in-law a smile taking the glass. 

“Thank God for them, right?” She nodded her head toward the crowd. 

“Definitely.” Jensen was always grateful for Jared’s easy charm when in the past Jensen had to attend galas or other kind of social event. Jared would work the room and run interference for Jensen. 

“It’s not that I don’t like people, I just find them exhausting,” Emma said and sipped her cocktail. “I love dressing up and being seen but not so much the actual socializing.”

Jensen nodded, watching as Jared now chatted up Congresswoman Sera Gamble. “Yeah. I’m glad I met Jared when I did because I’m not sure I’d be able to handle all of the events without him. He’s a great buffer.” Jared caught Jensen’s gaze and gave a wink. 

“I’m going to miss you two so much,” she said, quietly. 

“We’ll miss you, too. You and Colin will do fine. I believe that.”

“And you and Jared will be happy beach bums.” She puts an arm around his waist and kisses his cheek. “I’ll try not to be jealous when Colin is schmoozing with politicians at stuffy fundraisers and charity galas.”

Jensen laughs low. “I’m sure you’ll look divine while doing it.”

She scoffs. “Without my fashion consultant? Not likely. Everything I’ve learned about style and fashion I learned from Jared. I can’t believe I was really going to wear a chartreuse dress tonight.” 

“Jense, it’s not polite to be a wallflower at your own birthday party,” Jared says.

“I’m not,” Jensen argues. “I’m talking to Em.”

Jared smirks and Jensen can feel an answering grin tugging at his own lips. “It’s even more impolite to be an antisocial asshole at your birthday party.”

“How do you know we’re not judging everyone’s fashion choices?” Emma says.

“Because Jensen, for as stylish as he is, does not _know_ fashion. You and I would be the ones being catty judge-y bitches, not you and Jense. Nice try, Em.”

The quartet that had been playing a selection of Baroque pieces stops and music over the sound system begins to play. 

“Dance with me, Jense,” Jared says offering his hand. Over the hum of conversation Jensen picks up Frank Sinatra’s soothing crooning voice. 

If Jared’s knees or back bother him he doesn’t show it as he moves around the floor in a graceful waltz with Jensen held close and tight. Sinatra turns to Dean Martin, turns to Bing Crosby, and Jared still holds him close and moves effortlessly. Jensen is aware there are others on the dance floor; he gets glimpses of Colin and Emma, Mike and Tommy, Kat and Alex, but the only person that matters is Jared. Enfolded in his arms, his scent filling Jensen’s nose, his eyes overflowing with love and a bit of mischief as he gazes down at Jensen is the only place Jensen ever wants to be.

“Think we got time for a quickie before the cake is served?”

“Jared,” Jensen admonishes grinning widely, as happy and carefree as Jensen has felt in a long while. “What did I tell you back at the house? Quickies ain’t so quick once you’re in your fifties.”

“That isn’t much of a deterrent, Jense,” Jared bends and brushes his mouth across Jensen’s. Party guests whistle and hoot good-naturedly. “I love to take my time with you.”

This was shaping up to be a perfect night, and after the last eighteen months they deserve it.


	2. Chapter 2

_Jensen sighs, looking at the stack of papers on his desk: contracts and proposals for his review or signature, profits, losses, and quarterly expense reports. All very legal and above-board, but also very boring. Jensen had been a legit businessman for thirty years and while it was challenging to pick and choose investment opportunities, and satisfying to watch them grow, to handle mergers and takeovers, none of it gave him the charge his illicit activities did. As Jensen made his way through the papers, he found himself almost wishing for a little excitement._

_He had thought that after Lazaro died in April that it was going to be the start of something, but other than a few Marchesi associates roughing up Ackles soldiers who were out collecting nothing had happened. They seemed to have gone to ground and Jensen took that to mean they were planning a new strike, but four months had passed and no sign of any Marchesis. Maybe they realized without Lazaro’s connections they couldn’t hope to come at the Organization. He was a little disappointed. Maybe he was heading toward a mid-life crisis._

_Jensen’s office line rang. He picked it up and greeted his assistant. “Yes, Hannah?”_

_“Mr. Ackles, Mr. Welling is asking to see you.”_

_“Sure. Send him in.”_

_“Jensen?” Tommy Blue poked his wavy salt and pepper head into Jensen’s office._

_He smiled at his friend. Tommy Blue and Mad Mike were still together, still going strong. The couple had even ran away to Vegas to make it legal six years ago. Jensen was happy for them. They made a good match, Tommy the more sedate balance to Mike’s…well, madness. “Hey ya, Tommy. What’s up?”_

_Tommy comes fully into the room, gently closing the door behind him. He was always the most serious of his IC and Jensen knows that this isn’t a happy catch-up visit to break the monotony. While Tommy is COO of Ackles Enterprises, Jensen knows this is Organization business. He is immediately intrigued. Maybe the Marchesis were making moves at last. “I brought some folks to see you, Boss.”_

_Jensen’s brows draw together. “Oh?” He sits up a little straighter, and steeples his fingers._

_“Some business owners in our territory. They, well, they should probably talk to you themselves.”_

_“Yeah, sure. Show ‘em in.” Jensen stands and comes from behind his massive walnut desk._

_Tommy opens the door, and four people, three men and one woman come in._

_“Tommy said you have something to tell me?” Jensen says flashing his PR smile and doing his best to project a friendly air. He didn’t think it worked. How could Jared, who was much bigger, so effortlessly put people at ease? Jensen guessed it had something to do with his dewy eyes and dimples._

_The woman cleared her throat. She was curvy, blonde, with laughing blue eyes that darted nervously around the room. “Mr. Ackles, sir. I own a women’s only gym on Ballard Avenue and for the past week some clients have noticed men loitering around outside. They don’t do anything, they just stand and watch. But today when I went in to open up,” her eyes misted. “The equipment was vandalized and there were…messages written on the walls.”_

_Jensen clenched his jaw so hard he thought he might need to make a dental appointment. Fucking Marchesis. He absolutely knew it. They were making their first moves on the chess board._

_“Ms…?”_

_“Buckmaster.”_

_“Ms. Buckmaster, I am so very sorry that happened to you. But, I can assure you everything will be taken care of. Please, inform Tommy of any financial recompense you may need. Okay?”_

_He turns his attention to the three men who came in with her. “And you gentlemen?”_

_“I’m Lewis Claymore, sir. I have a sandwich shop and deli business Wickford Street. My window glass was busted out and store vandalized.”_

_“Sir, I have a plumbing business. Nothing has happened yet, but a couple of burly guys have been hanging around. When the Claymore Deli was vandalized, one of the dudes came in and intimated that he could protect my business from similar damage, for a price.”_

_Jensen exhaled and clenched his jaw again. Vandalism, intimidation, and extortion. Not on his fucking watch, not in his fucking territory._

_“Mr. Ackles, sir. I’m not sure you would remember, but you arranged a loan so I was able to start my business; your husband comes in to chat sometimes,” the third man was slight and pretty with box-dyed black hair with bright pink streaks mixed in. He had a hint of lipstick and eye shadow on to accentuate his full mouth and pretty blue eyes. If Jensen was a jealous type he’d be a little less friendly to the cute twink addressing him. “I do a steady business in dressmaking and tailoring at my shop, You Sew and Sew.”_

_Jensen smiled at the cute pun. “I think I remember. Jared talks about your shop; says you really know what you’re doing.” Jared had said nothing of the kind, but if it helped put the young man more at ease it was okay._

_The twink blushed. “I try, but like Mr. Claymore said. Some goons have been hanging around and it affects my business. People are afraid to come in.”_

_Jensen scowled. “Have you been approached about “protection” yet?”_

_“No, sir.”_

_“I guarantee you probably will be.” He turned to the victimized people as a whole. “It will not stand, you get me? I will see to it you are recompensed for any damage and those responsible will be held accountable.” Wickford and Ballard were all on the west side, which was why they contacted Tommy Blue. The west side was his territory to oversee. How soon until Lazy Jace, Stevie Guitar, or Kane come to him with similar intimidation tactics for those in their territory? Jensen would try to head the fucking Marchesi goons off at the pass._

_“Just contact Mr. Welling. He and I will coordinate everything. I really appreciate you coming to me with this. It will not happen again.” He fixed each person with his most meaningful intimidating stare. When he said something he goddamn well meant it. He hadn’t earned respect and loyalty over the years with empty words and promises. He backed his shit up._

_He shook hands with each person and they warmly thanked him, then they were gone, but Tommy Blue remained._

_“Fucking Marchesis,” Jensen spat._

_Tommy nodded. “I’ll see that there are more of our people stationed throughout the west side. I’ll get ahold of Jase, Kane and Stevie, tell them to up the security in their territories as well.”_

_“I’m gonna contact some of our people in law enforcement. They won’t have Lazaro’s protection. This stops now, Tommy. Your guys see the same people loitering around places of business you haul them in and take them to The Ranch. You hear me?”_

_Tommy’s spine stiffened and his deep blue eyes were hard and intense. “Loud and clear, sir.”_

_Jensen dismissed him with a nod._

_Well, Jensen had wanted some excitement. Now, he had gotten it._

_Something had happened. That was the only reason why Jared would interrupt a board meeting. Jared did have a position at Ackles Enterprises in their Alternative Energy division, but that was mostly on paper, though Jared was smart and always had a keen mind for new (legitimate) business ventures or investment opportunities. Jensen’s slightly bashful PR-perfect mask slipped for a second as his mind whirled with what could be so bad Jared was coming here himself to deliver news. Was Colin okay? Emma? The kids? Kane? His other close friends. Jensen kept his phone off, as he always did when meeting with board members, wanting to give his full attention to the matters at hand. Jared, Colin, and the other IC members could act in his stead for anything Organization related. But here Jared was, face unreadable, as he silently closed the door, clasped his hands in front of him—looking every bit the Enforcer he was—and waited._

_“A moment, please, ladies and gentlemen,” Jensen says rising and striding over to the door. He keeps his back to the board members, no doubt curious about the goings-on, as he inquires, “What’s happened?”_

_Jared dips his head and keeps his voice low, lips barely moving. “AJ and Travis are dead.”_

_Jensen closed his eyes. Shit. His people knew exactly what they were getting involved in when they joined the Organization, but that didn’t mean it ever got easier when someone died. He had known AJ and Travis for years, had assigned them to the pawn shop and chop shop after ordering the deaths of Ritchie the Chin, Mark Pellegrino and Freddy Lehne. They ran their shops under the radar and ran them well; righteous cops never came sniffing around. Most importantly, they were loyal to Jensen and loyalty was everything to him. Jensen fucking cared about his people no matter where they were on the totem. He would set their families up for the rest of their lives. The money could never compensate his family for their loss but it could make their lives easier._

_“How?”_

_“Marchesis firebombed their shops.”_

_The shit had started pretty tame and was starting to escalate. After the business owners in Tommy Blue’s territory had come to Jensen with their troubles, Jensen had launched a counterattack. Lazaro Marchesi had told Jensen he would offer no protection and he meant it. Jensen had used his own in the Dallas PD and FBI to hit the Marchesi’s hard. He had their whorehouses raided, arranged prostitution stings, drug raids, and raids on gambling dens. They were in legal hot water and would continue to be for a very long time, but that wasn’t stopping them. Now, AJ and Travis were dead and their blood was on Jensen’s hands._

_“Fuck,” Jensen said under his breath._

_The board members were shifting in their chair, trying to listen in, but not be obvious about it._

_“Anyone else hurt?”_

_“A few pedestrians, shops were empty at the time. Tommy Blue is going to see to them about any medical bills or anything they need. None of our people but Trav and AJ. This requires an answer, Jense. Intimidation and extortion of people in our territory was one thing. This? This was an act of war.”_

_Jensen gazed up into Jared’s face, saw longing and hunger in his eyes, but not for sex; no, Jared was hungry for blood, destruction, and death. Jensen knows Jared is right. If he had let Jared have free reign when the Marchesis first came around Ackles controlled territory this may never have happened. For the first time in a very long time Jensen wants his father, wishes he were here to give some guidance._

_“Jare, you’re off the leash, understand? Whatever it takes. This will not happen again.”_

_Jared nods, eyes grave but still alight with bloodlust. He turns and exits the boardroom._

_Jensen turns back to the other board members. He flashes them his most winning PR smile. “So sorry for the interruption.”_

_Jensen arrives at the Ackles Compound mansion around eight. He had a late night at the office, dealing with the finer points of the new division Ackles Enterprises was launching. The house is eerily quiet. The main house’s permanent residents—Kane, Stevie Guitar, Lazy Jase, and Jared—were all out tending to Organization business. The house feels unusually lonely and cavernous without them. Not even Jared was around much these days. He was away from the Ackles compound five out of seven days. Lately, he, Colin, and Kane had their heads together, no doubt planning some retaliation for the firebombing of AJ’s Pawn & Loan and Wester’s Junk & Salvage. _

_Part of Jensen was eager to see what they were coming up with. Whatever it was, had nothing to do with the activities the press was reporting on: the murders of Marchesi Caporegimes. So far Jared had taken out four of the Marchesis Capos. The bodies had been found disfigured and mutilated. Those were the only bodies that had turned up; Jensen was aware that several other soldiers and associates had also been quietly dealt with, if not by Jared directly, then under his, or possibly Colin’s, orders._

_The press was sensationalizing the murders of the Capos, saying Dallas had a vigilante superhero out there cleaning up the streets. The cops were another matter, and Jensen used his influence to nudge investigators away from any of his guys._

_The click of his footsteps echoes off the marble foyer. He wanders through the dining room to the kitchen. There are good smells to greet him from the oven and pots simmering on the Viking stove. There is a plate of chocolate chip cookies and a pie cooling on the counter._

_“Good evening, Mr. Ackles,” Amy says coming in from the pantry with a bag of coffee beans to grind for tomorrows coffee. “Is the other Mr. Ackles home? Would you like dinner to be served?”_

_“Not yet, Ms. Gumenick. I am sorry for our tardiness. Please keep the meal warm as long as you can, but I don’t expect anyone else home for a while yet. Bring some coffee to me in the living room, please.”_

_“Of course, Mr. Ackles.”_

_Jensen gives her a smile and turns to leave._

_He is on his second cup of coffee when the front door opens and he hears chatter from Jared and what sounds like Colin and Kane._

_“You’re a sick fuck, Jared,” Kane says but there is laughter in his voice._

_“No, Jay has just seen_ The _Godfather way too many fucking times.”_

_“Blood all over me and under my damn fingernails,” Kane gripes._

_“Peroxide,” Colin and Jared say at the same time._

_Jensen sighs, pushing to his feet. What the hell have they done? “Someone care to tell me what’s going on,” Jensen calls._

_The three men saunter into the living room. They obviously made an effort to clean up but there is still a lot of blood on each of them, and a whiff of smoke. Jensen starts running through a list of people he may need to contact or buy off to keep his husband, son, and best friend out of trouble._

_“Sent a little present to Vincenzo Marchesi,” Kane says smirking._

_Jensen arches a brow. “Care to elaborate?” Jensen says deadpan._

_“Vinny Marchesi is heavy into horse racing and breeding,” Colin says. “He keeps a horse ranch for breeding thoroughbred prize-winning race horses. We burnt the stables to the ground and slaughtered all the valuable horses. And because Jay is a fucking Godfather fanboy,” he cuts his eyes to Jared. “He and Kane delivered the decapitated carcass of Vinny’s personal racehorse to his front lawn.”_

_Jared is grinning that cold crazy grin, and goddamn if Jensen’s doesn’t feel a pulse of arousal. “Don’t worry, Jense, we used nondescript cars and stolen plates.”_

_“In case they aren’t,” Colin cuts across. “I’ve already got them airtight alibis.”_

_“Vincenzo Marchesi isn’t likely to go to the cops about any of this. This is personal Family business and no one in law enforcement or the legal community want to touch them now. But make no mistake, they will retaliate for this.”_

_“We’ll be ready, Boss,” Kane says._

When nine rolls around, the music ceases—Jensen and Jared had long since stopped dancing, choosing instead to partake of the excellent food that was on offer—and the lights dim. Jensen, with Jared at his side, is ushered into the middle of the room for the cake presentation. His friends and family all shove and slap him on the back, and offer teasing greetings.

“Who’s old now?” Doc Morgan says with a shit eating grin and a hearty slap to the back. “Let me know if you need an ED ‘script!”

That gets a loud shout of laughter from Mad Mike, Tommy Blue, and Lazy Jace. Some of the younger, newer IC members are unsure if they should laugh at the outgoing Boss. 

“Save it for yourself,” Jared shoots back. “ _Old_ man.”

“Always talking about your sex lives, I fucking swear,” Colin grouses but is smiling wide and happy. For the moment the mask of Stone-Cold Colin, the Organization’s new Boss, is gone and Colin is just Jensen and Jared’s son.

“I think it’s sweet,” Kathryn Newton said smiling a sappy dreamy smile at them. She was one of Colin’s friends from Stanford. She had financed her education moonlighting as a cat burglar. Jensen had put her to work in the fencing arm of his Organization. 

“You’re precious, Kitty Kat,” Jared said giving a wink to the young woman.

Once Jensen is center stage, Megalyn—daughter of Loretta Devine—wheels out a large round two-tier cake topped with sparklers shooting pretty multi-colored sparks into the air. The guests sing a rousing rendition of Happy Birthday. As the song ends, the lights come back up, and Jensen blows out the scuttering fireworks. 

Jensen feels a bit uncomfortable with so many eyes on him, but Jared is there right at his side, strong and reassuring presence, as he always has been. He also feels very loved, with his family and close friends surrounding him and also respected by both his associates here, all gathered to show respect and give him (and Jared) a happy send off. He gazes around at the smiling singing faces and thinks about those who are missing.

_Jensen sat heavily in his chair and rubbed a hand over his face. This shit had been going on for eight months now, and he was sick of it. He had no doubt his Organization would come out on top, but the getting there was going to be tough. His guys were tough; tough and loyal. The Marchesis were like cockroaches. Whenever Jensen felt sure that they were done they fucking came back with a vengeance._

_Marco, Vincenzo, Angelo and Angie Marchesi had taken heavy losses recently with Tommy, Kane, Stevie and Jase coordinating attacks in Marchesi territory. Jared and Colin had been working overtime at The Ranch doing interrogations. The Marchesi siblings had overinflated egos from not directly suffering any consequences for their repeated attacks. That was soon going to change. Jensen had authorized Jared and Colin to go after Angie Marchesi, but doing so would require careful planning. Jensen had faith in his husband and son’s cunning, as well as their brutality. Angie Marchesi was beautiful with voluminous jet black hair that rippled down her elegant back, well-rounded curves, long well-shaped legs, beautiful caramel brown eyes, and full lips. She was the baby of the Family and the darling of her older brothers. Let’s see those bastards keep this shit up with their baby sister in Cujo and Stone-Cold Colin’s clutches._

_He titled his head back and closed his eyes, hoping for a few moments rest. His office door opened, light from the hall splashed across the Turkish rug then was gone as the door was closed. He knew it wasn’t Jared by the tread of footsteps. Jared moved like a cat, and only made sound when he wanted to. Given the environment he found himself in he should be more alarmed at someone just walking into his office, but this was his private home and felt safe here. Nonetheless, Jensen reached into his jacket cocked the hammer and pulled out his .45._

_He pulled it out as a man dropped into the chair across from his. “Fuck. Kane. You trying to get blown away? You know this has a hair trigger.” Jensen uncocked his gun, put the safety on, and replaced it in his holster._

_Kane shrugged and grinned at him. “Had you really thought you were in danger you woulda shot first and asked questions later.”_

_Jensen sighs. “Maybe. I’m getting old.”_

_Kane knocked the toe of a boot against Jensen’s foot. “If you’re old what does that make me?”_

_Jensen gives a weak smile. Kane was two years older than Jensen. He gazed at his friend, looking older and more weathered but it suited him much more than the slick and polished lifestyle Jensen preferred. He could see Kane on a ranch or rodeo circuit in another life. He thought about that a lot recently; what his guys would be doing in another life, particularly after AJ and Travis’ deaths._

_Kane was a struggling junior at UTD, mostly drifting and going through the motions, when Jensen met him at a clandestine high-stakes poker game. Kane had lost big and was sure Jensen was going to put a hurt on him, but Jensen had a good feeling about Kane, covered his debt, and brought him into the Organization. He had never regretted that decision. Until Jared came along, Kane was the roughest and toughest son of a bitch in his Organization, not afraid to get his hands dirty, but lacked Jared’s taste for true violence._

_“Where’s your man?”_

_“At the Ranch with Colin, I think. Doubt he’ll be home tonight.”_

_“Can you even handle one night without him?” Kane’s eyes danced with a teasing light._

_“Fuck off,” Jensen retorted. He and Jared had spent many nights apart over the last months. To be honest he was as sick of that as he was of everything else._

_“Fucking pathetic,” Kane raked a hand through his grey-streaked brown hair. “Got anything to drink?”_

_Jensen nodded and pushed up to his feet. He had a little bar set up and Kane knew it, but Kane wasn’t the type of guy to help himself to Jensen’s expensive liquor. Jensen poured himself a couple of fingers of Glenfiddich—Jared’s brand but Jensen was worried and missing him—and good ol’ Jack Daniels for Kane._

_“Here, you fuckin’ redneck.” Jensen handed him a heavy crystal tumbler and sat back down._

_Kane slammed the whiskey back and grinned. “Don’t gotta be fifty years old and cost thousands to be good, you fuckin’ snob.”_

_Jensen grinned and sipped Jared’s scotch. He hoped his husband would get some answers and be home soon. The two friends lapsed into silence. Kane motioned to the bar with his empty glass. Jensen gave an upward nod for his friend to refill his glass. Jensen watched Kane saunter over to the bar with a rangy rolling gait that made Jensen think of a gunslinger and wondered if his old friend had someone in his life he was missing and worrying about. Kane made no secret of his numerous trysts, but in the last year or two he had stopped bragging about all his conquests._

_Now that he thought about it, Stevie Guitar had ceased his tomcatting around that time as well. Kane and Stevie were always close, had been friends before Jensen met Kane. Maybe Kane and Stevie Guitar? Nah. Kane had been a pussy hound as long as Jensen had known him, but still…. Was it really out of the realm of possibility for Kane and Stevie to have made the leap from friendship to something a little deeper? Jensen disliked it when people discussed his private life and so didn’t pry into the private lives of his friends. And Jensen wasn’t so closed minded to think that Kane and Stevie Guitar couldn’t make the leap from friends to lovers. If they had Jensen was happy for them. Or if Kane had someone else in his life that made him cease chasing women he was still happy for him. Kane was a good guy, tough, loyal, a bit of a wisecracking asshole, but in a charming way and deserved some measure of happiness._

_“Weird, isn’t it?” Kane said quietly, musingly, breaking their comfortable silence._

_“Hmm?” Jensen responded._

_“These kids, getting it done, down and dirty.” Colin’s crew were not exactly “kids” but Jensen understood where Kane was coming from. Shit. It seemed not that long ago that he was Colin’s age, learning the ropes and gradually taking over for his father. Life was a wheel and everything came around._

_“We were kids once, too, old man,”_

_“Yeah. When did that happen? Like, sometimes I’ll be shaving and not recognize the face staring back at me. Fuck, Jensen. I saw a fuckin’_ grey hair _in my short and curlies! What the fuck is happening?” Kane grumped._

_Jensen felt a smile tug at the corner of his mouth. “I do not need to know your pubes are going grey, Kane.”_

_“Hey, just because you are a secretive bastard doesn’t mean the rest of us are. I’m a caring and sharing type of guy.”_

_Jensen arched a brow. “I am not “secretive”. I am private. There is a difference, you ass.”_

_“Yeah, yeah. Little Boss Chev is the same way.” His blue eyes narrow and he gazes speculatively at Jensen. “You sure he’s not your blood son?”_

_Jensen rolls his eyes. “Gold Star Gay, Kane. I’ve never even kissed a woman let alone anything else.” He shuddered at the thought._

_Kane waved a hand. “Little Jay’s then. They both got that eye thing. If you don’t look too deep they seem nice and innocent. Doe eyes.”_

_Jensen smiled, musing. It was true. Colin and Jared were physically a lot alike; both tall and lean, similar angular faces and soulful eyes. Colin was like Jensen in a lot of ways as well: clinical, thoughtful, cunning, and calculating. But also ruthless and brutal, like Jared could be. Jensen chuckled. He could be pretty ruthless himself. He never shied away from doing what needed to be done. Sometimes, if Jensen thought about it, he wondered whether Colin was really more Jared’s son than his. It further cemented what Jensen already knew, Colin would be a great Boss when the time came._

_“I want you and your guys to be careful and vigilant when you go collecting,” Jensen said._

_“Got it, Boss.”_

_“I mean it, Kane. Jared and Colin are planning something major. I don’t know how much you know, but the Marchesis will retaliate—when or where is up in the air. We’ve buried Trav and AJ. I don’t want to bury you.”_

_Kane sobered. He nodded, eyes grave. “Me and my guys know what we’re doing, Jensen. We’ll be alright.”_

_But they weren’t._

_The Marchesis planted a shit load of C-4 in Kane’s car and it exploded. Jensen ended up burying what was left of not one, but two, of his oldest, dearest friends: Christian “Kane” Short and Steven “Stevie Guitar” Carlson._

“Speech!” Jared’s booming voice brings Jensen back to the present. The other party guests applaud and add their own voices to Jared’s.

“Speech! Speech!”

Jensen gives a bashful smile and holds up a hand. The room quiets. 

“Thank you,” Jensen begins. “Thank you for that. I, uh, I’m glad to be here amongst my friends and family celebrating my birthday. It’s a little surreal to tell the truth.” Jensen pauses. He had written a speech, but going over the words in his head now, it all feels trite and cheap. 

He glances over at Jared, wanting to draw some fresh words and inspiration, but his brows are drawn together in a concerned frown as he stares at Jensen’s chest. Jensen dips his head, following Jared’s gaze, and sees a bright red dot in the center of his chest. Jensen can hear people around him exclaiming, and starting to scatter. Jensen is frozen. How can he be fucking frozen when the dot of a laser scope is aimed right at his heart? He should be moving, but all he can do is stare dumbly down at the spot. 

It feels like slow motion and a blink. Jared is shoving Jensen away and pivoting, arms spreading wide as a rifle shot rings out. Party guests scream and scatter. Tommy Blue, Mad Mike, Gatling Gun Garret, and Lazy Jase close a circle around Jensen and Jared, and draw their weapons. A flower of blood blooms on the right side of Jared’s chest, and he goes down

“The Pavilion!” Emma shouts. “He’s running toward the Pavilion!” 

“Go! Go! Go! You motherfuckers let him get away and I’ll kill you myself!” Colin barks out. 

Screams. Gunshots. 

Jensen’s hearing seems to cease. He falls to his knees, cradling Jared’s head in his lap. He registers Doc Morgan kneeling beside him, ripping Jared’s waistcoat and shirt open. There is a hole in Jared’s chest—.38 caliber the clinical part of Jensen’s mind guesses, trickling blood. Jared gasps, struggling to breathe. Doc Morgan folds up the remnants of Jared’s shirt and presses it hard against Jared’s wound. Jared makes a soundless gasp. He hears Doc Morgan saying something, relaying information, and he guesses someone has called an ambulance. 

Jared gazes up at Jensen, worry radiating from his eyes. His mouth moves, but no words come out. Jensen doesn’t need them to. He knows what Jared is saying, asking. “Are you okay?”

Through his despair and terror Jensen nods, reassuring Jared as he lays dying in his arms. “I’m fine, Jared.” He has to reassure Jared that he is okay, because if Jared knows Jensen is okay then Jared will be okay. He has to be. That’s how it works!

Color leeches from Jared’s face and lips; his lovely golden tan fades to a sickly grey while his lips go from pretty pink, to white and oh god, blue. His eyes blink slowly as he gazes at Jensen.

“Don’t you fucking leave me, Jared,” Jensen tries for his Bog Boss Man voice but only gets a wheezing squeak past his lips. “Jared!”

Jared’s mouth opens to try and speak. Oh, God a waterfall of blood spills from his lips, dribbles down his chin, and throat. Jensen can read lips enough to know what Jared is saying. “I love you. Love you. Love you.”

Jensen’s vision blurs as scalding tears race down his cheeks. He pets Jared’s head. “I love you, too, Jared. You can’t leave me. You hear me!” Jared’s hazel eyes flutter and close even as his bloody mouth is still trying to tell Jensen he loves him and it’s okay. “You can’t leave me. You promised!”

Jared’s body goes limp and Jensen’s world goes dark.

_The phone was ringing. Jensen came awake. He never slept very well without Jared beside him. Even years after his ordeal with Collins and the pit, Jensen still had nightmares—though they were far fewer now—and still disliked the dark. His heart jumped into his throat and settled there, beating like a battle drum. His mouth went dry and his throat seemed to swell. He loathed calls to his personal line in the middle of the night, perpetually thinking it was an IC member telling him something horrific had happened or was happening to Jared, or Colin. Not many people had Jensen’s direct line so it had to be someone he knew. Panting shakily, struggling with his mounting fear, he glanced at the display. His brows came together. It wasn’t anyone in his contacts calling. The number didn’t have a Dallas area code. His mind whirled. He didn’t think it was a California area code, so it wasn’t one of Colin’s friends. He swiped to answer._

_“This is Jensen.” Cold swept over him as he heard a liquid sob come over the line. The caller sounded female._

_“Jensen, is Jared there?”_

_His brows knitted in a frown. Definitely a woman, but not anyone he recognized. Why the hell was a crying woman calling for Jared? “No, not at the moment. Can I help?” Jensen asked flummoxed, but the anxiety started to ebb away a bit._

_“I….It’s Tara.”_

_It clicks for Jensen then. The sobbing woman was Tara VanFlower, the long-time girlfriend of Jared’s oldest friend and former member of Jensen’s Inner Circle, Petrus Ratajczyk. The fact that she is crying makes dread close over Jensen like a thunderhead over the sun. “What’s going on?”_

_“Oh, Jensen.” Another sob and a watery sniffle. “We lost Peter last night.”_

_Jensen’s heart sinks. They hadn’t seen the big man since their wedding three years ago. He and Jared kept making plans to go out there and visit him but between one thing and another they never had. Now it was too late. Jensen had no doubt they would finally make it out to New York, but to attend a goddamn funeral. Shit._

_“Tara, I am so very sorry. And I know this will break Jared’s heart.” He was not looking forward to telling his husband the man who had been both father-figure and brother was dead. Knowing Jared he would either stew about it or lash out in anger. Jensen would do everything he could to comfort Jared. “Any idea of the cause?”_

_“The doc is pretty sure it was an aortic aneurysm. Peter…” her voice breaks and hitches. Jensen feels his eyes sting. No more letters or calls from the Big Man to discuss whatever book they were reading or deep discussions about philosophy and theology. They had been reading_ The Karamazov Brothers _, and Jensen had been looking forward to Pete’s bi-weekly call to discuss the last few chapters._

_“Peter hated doctors. He…he had been complaining of heart…heart palpitations the last couple of days. I….” she breaks off into sobs then._

_“I’m sure you tried. Pete could be stubborn. What can Jared and I do? Are arraignments taken care of?”_

_Tara was still sobbing, deep soul-rending sobs, the sound of someone whose soul-mate had been torn from them. Oh God. Jensen would be a fucking wreck if anything happened to Jared. He aches for Tara in that moment. Just imagining something happening to Jared has his heart pounding with anxiety._

_“Whatever you want, whatever you and his sisters need, Jared and I will take care of it, understand? Send any and all bills to me or Jared. Y’all will have enough to deal with without worry about financial strain. Let me know when the funeral is. Jared and I want to be there.”_

_More sobs but Tara sounded as if she was struggling to regain some control over herself. “Oh, Jensen. Peter always told me you were good, despite what people say about you.”_

_Jensen notices she doesn’t mention Jared being good. Jensen isn’t so blinded by his love for Jared that he thinks Jared is “good” nor does Jensen confuse Jared’s many good qualities for goodness itself. Jared’s edge has always been what drew Jensen to him. “My notoriety has been greatly exaggerated,” Jensen says drolly._

_“Peter never much talked about what he did down there,” she sniffs._

_“He did security.” It’s not exactly a lie but not the entire truth either. If Pete didn’t want details of his life in organized crime to follow him back to Brooklyn Jensen would respect that. Pete was really too gentle for this life. “He was a big guy, people didn’t want to cross him, but he was so sweet, and polite, and gentle.”_

_A watery laugh. “Yeah, he was. I’m glad other people could see that. I’m gonna hang up now, Jensen. Me and Peter’s sisters have things to arrange.”_

_“All bills to me or Jared. Anything. I’ll see any medical bills are taken care of, too. You just grieve for him, remember him. Jare and I will take care of practical things. Shit. Can you give me the name of the hospital he’s at or have they released him to a mortuary yet? If you and his sisters don’t mind, Jared and I can take care of the funeral arrangements for you.”_

_“Oh, Jensen,” Tara sighs and begins to sob again._

_“It’ll be okay again, I promise.” Jensen knows he wouldn’t survive if Jared died. He’d end his life to join him. Jared would do the same._

_“He’s at the University Hospital in Brooklyn. He belonged to St. Agnes’ Church, also here in Brooklyn.”_

_“I know how important Pete’s faith was to him. We’ll honor that. Did he want to be cremated or have any special directives that you know of?”_

_She sniffs. “No, you know Pete. Nothing fancy or too much trouble.”_

_Jensen nods. “Yeah, that was Pete.”_

_“Thank you for everything, Jensen.”_

_“I’m happy to help however I can. I need to tell Jared now.”_

_Jared slipped into their bedroom near two o’clock. He looked tired but in a decent mood. Jensen hated that he was going to ruin it._

_“Hey, Jense,” Jared swooped down and kissed him, quick and deep. When Jared pulled back his brows came together. “What’s wrong?”_

_“Jared, honey,” Jensen reached out and took one of Jared’s big hands in his._

_Tension poured into Jared like a liquid. His shoulders stiffened, his back straightened, his eyes narrowed. “What is it?”_

_“Tara called me not too long before you got home. Pete’s gone, Jared.” Jensen gripped Jared’s hand hard enough to leave a bruise._

_The expression on Jared’s face did not change. “What?”_

_“He’s gone, Jared. He died earlier today. Aortic aneurysm is what Tara told me.”_

_Jensen could see the muscle ticking in Jared’s jaw as he clenched and unclenched it. His mouth was a flat hard line. He ripped his hand from Jensen’s supporting grip. “Bullshit!” Jared turned his back and strode towards the walk-in closet. Jensen followed on his heels. Jared was literally trying to run from whatever pain and realization is beginning to sink in._

_“Jared, I’m sorry, but it’s true. Pete’s gone.”_

_Jared pivoted, fast as a lightning stroke. Jensen stumbled back, arms flailing as he lost his balance. Despite his best efforts to remain upright, he landed flat on his ass. His ear was ringing and white spots popped before his eyes. And his jaw is aching like a bitch. It takes a moment to realize that Jared punched him. Never before in the twenty-three years they have been together has Jared ever hit him. He should be more shocked than he is but he had known Jared’s first reaction would be anger and to strike out, to cause pain for the pain he was feeling._

_“Shut up! Stop saying that!” Jared shouts as he towers above Jensen. But the truth has sunk in for Jared. He knows Jensen would never lie to him and never pull this kind of joke. “Why are you lying to me?” Jared’s face crumpled as the truth set in. “Why are you doing this to me!”_

_Jensen pushed back to his feet, staggering a bit. “Jared, I’m sorry, honey. I know how much he meant to you, how much you loved him, but he’s gone.”_

_Jared’s face seemed to fold in on itself, brows pulling in, mouth trembling and pulling down, eyes filling with tears. The agonized wail he let loose as the realization sunk in that his oldest friend was dead broke Jensen’s heart. The strength seems to run out of him. Jensen darts forward catching Jared in his arms. Together they sink to the floor, the weight of their grief drawing them down._

_“I’m sorry, Jared. I’m so sorry,” Jensen whispers in his ear and runs his fingers through Jared’s hair in a comforting caress._

_“Petey! Petey! Petey!” Jared cried as he desperately clutched Jensen, buried his wet face in the crook of Jensen’s neck. His body shook with the force of his sobs. He had never seen Jared as broken and vulnerable as he was now, not even when Jared had confided the details of his time with Fuller. Jensen tightened his arms around his husband, trying his best to hold him together._

_Jensen’s own grief at losing Pete, his friend and book-buddy, washed over him. He closed his eyes and let his own tears fall, but he knew his grief was nothing compared to Jared’s, who had been taken under Pete’s wing as a child of ten, protected and cared for, fed and loved. A friend, a brother, a found family after his own had been taken from him._

_Jensen held Jared as he cried out his grief and pain, knowing the only thing he could do was to do exactly as he was and be there._

_Jensen sat in the second pew, behind Tara and Pete’s surviving sisters and watched as Jared stepped up to the podium to eulogize his old friend. The casket Jared had selected was cedar, upholstered in plain white cotton; it was heavy and simple, like the man inside it. The only floral arrangement was a vase of white carnations. Tara and Pete’s sisters had stated that Pete would rather have donations to his favorite charities instead of a slew of useless—but lovely—flowers. Jensen and Jared had given fifteen thousand dollars apiece to each of Pete’s special causes—mental health, animal rescue, and literacy programs._

_The casket was open and Pete looked to be only peacefully sleeping. The only extravagance was the Armani suit that Jared had quickly tailored to Pete’s impressive measurements. Jared had also added a hunter green waistcoat, matching tie and handkerchief; green being Peter’s favorite color, reflecting his love for nature. Jensen had tried to help Jared with the arrangements, but he had declined, saying it was something he had to do for Pete by himself. Jensen let him be._

_The service had started with the Parish priest saying wonderful things about Pete, how he was always involved in the community and volunteered at the church. It was a completely different side to the big man. Then some of Pete’s old friends from the neighborhood—Johnny Kelly, Sal Abruscato, Josh Silver, and Kenny Hickey—all told humorous anecdotes about their friend. Then, it was Jared’s turn._

_“I…uh,” Jared fiddled with the mic. “I’m not a religious man. I can’t even say I’m a good man, but Petey was.” Jared’s voice quivered and he dropped his head. He took several moments to collect himself before continuing. “I’m not sure I understood his goodness until I was older. Petey had a darkness in him, but I think that made the light of his goodness shine all the brighter. He had a depth and wisdom I wanted to attain but never could. He was my friend, my brother. For a long time he was everything to me, always there for me. He knew when I met my husband that I didn’t need him anymore and it was time to start his own life, find something, have something, for himself. He did.” Jared bowed his head again and exhaled forcefully._

_Jensen wanted to go to him, lay a hand on his back, and try to give him some strength, but knew, like taking care of Pete’s final rites, Jared had to get through this on his own. Tara was weeping quietly in the front row, face buried in a handful of tissues. Jensen wanted to go to her as well, but she was enfolded and surrounded by Pete’s sisters. He can only imagine the pain she’s in right now and hopes it never visits him, but knowing someday it will. It was inevitable in their way of life. Though not Catholic, Jensen crossed himself—as he had often seen Pete do—and said a brief prayer for the safety of his family and friends._

_Jared raised his head, and cleared his throat. His eyes shimmered with tears but his voice was strong and clear. “I wish he’d had more time with her. I wish he’d had more time with all of us. I love you, Petey. Rest well.”_

_Jared left the podium, and approached the open casket with his friend resting inside it. He laid a hand on the closed bottom of the casket, bowed his head for a few moments, then returned to his pew beside Jensen. Jensen enfolded him in his arms. Jared buried his face in his neck, and his arms came around Jensen tight, so tight, and together they grieved for their lost friend._


	3. Chapter 3

Jensen feels a century—no, a millennia—old as he sits and keeps vigil at Jared’s bedside in the ICU. No one orders Jensen to leave. He has given very, very generously to the hospital over the years and no one would want to offend such a wealthy benefactor. He donated one-hundred million dollars to build a new children’s wing. When they wanted to name it after him, he declined, instead asking if they would name it after Megan Padalecki, the baby sister Jared had loved but never got to meet. 

His memory directly after the shooting is fragmented and in flashes like strokes of lightning in the dark. He remembers holding Jared. He remembers blood. So much blood. He remembers someone holding him back as the EMTs loaded Jared into an ambulance. He remembers that same someone racing to the hospital behind the ambulance. He remembers yelling in the ER, desperate for news, begging to see Jared, and be with him. Someone escorted him to the OR waiting room and sat with him. He remembers the scents of tobacco, leather, vanilla and roses. Doc Morgan? And Samantha? Yes, they had been with him.

“Here, Jensen,” Doc Morgan stealthily pressed Jared’s .357 against his side. “Took it off him before they loaded him in the ambulance.”

Numb with fear and exhaustion, Jensen takes the big heavy gun, gazes at it. It feels good to have it. When they tell him that Jared is gone, Jensen won’t have to be without Jared too long. He’ll even have Jared’s gun with which to end his life. 

An eon later the doors open and a flame-haired doctor comes out. She says a lot of words Jensen doesn’t understand about Jared’s injury and condition: shattered rib, collapsed lung, hypovolemic shock, pericardial sac nicked, coded twice, and he cannot see Jared yet. Jensen really understands nothing except the last part. He can’t make anyone understand that Jared needs to know that he, Jensen, is okay, because if Jared believes anything else, Jared will give up. But Dr. Connell won’t even let Jensen in the recovery ward to just say ‘I’m okay’ to Jared. 

He’s in the cool doctor’s face, screaming, trying to get her to understand, when arms close around him and he’s hauled back. Leather, smoke, and oil fill his nose. Doc Morgan is restraining him, saying something rough and low in his ear.

“Jensen, shut up. You keep it up security will kick your ass out of here,” Morgan growls “You understand? Jared will be _alone_. You want that?”

Jensen slumps in the older man’s arms, still so strong and fit for a man in his seventies. Jensen shakes his head and begins to cry. As bad and as urgent as the need to see Jared, the overwhelming desire to eventually see him be with him, comfort him, outweighs his anger and helplessness.

“Apologies, Ruth,” Doc Morgan says. “He and your patient are just a little codependant. I got ‘im.” 

Doctor Connell gives a curt nod before walking away. Doc Morgan drags Jensen back to a chair and shoves him down into one to continue the excruciating never-ending wait. 

Jared was eventually moved to a room in the ICU and there Jensen sat, keeping vigil. It’s impossible for Jensen to reconcile the small frail-looking man in the bed with the strong capable man he has loved for over thirty years. He’s hooked up to so many leads and machines. The blue plastic tube rammed down his throat, taped to his mouth, make it look like he’s being violated by the medical equipment instead of kept alive. The only reason the shot wasn’t fatal was because the gunman had been aiming for Jensen and Jensen is four inches shorter than Jared. Jared had taken the killing bullet for him. Jared was so pale and still that if not for the dot on the screen and the stead whoosh of the respirator Jensen would think Jared dead.

The door to Jared’s room opens and he feels a hand on his shoulder. He doesn’t turn. He won’t take his eyes off Jared. 

“Dad,” Colin says. “What did Dr. Connell say?”

Jensen shakes his head. She had said a lot, but mostly it amounted to luck and wait and see. While that was better than Jared being pronounced dead on arrival it wasn’t much better. He had lost a tremendous amount of blood, hypovolemic shock she called it, nearly drowning in it from the damage the .38 caliber bullet did to his lung. Dr. Connell said it was luck that caused the bullet to ricochet off a rib and hit his lung instead of going right into his aorta—which would have been immediately fatal. As it was Jared’s pericardial sac had been nicked and he coded twice in the OR. 

Colin’s fingers dig into Jensen’s shoulder. “I want you to know, Dad, Jay, the ones responsible for this paid. The shooter is still paying.” Colin’s voice is arctic. He learned the art of interrogation from Jared and excelled at it and improved it. While Jared’s techniques could be crude, focused more on physical pain; Colin preferred mental and emotional pain, understanding that it sometimes hurt worse. His techniques were razor sharp and pin-point accurate and left no physical marks. There is a distant part of Jensen that is glad, savagely glad, but it doesn’t mean anything because Jared is here, intubated unconscious and recovering from having his chest cracked open to repair damage to his lung and heart from a bullet meant for Jensen. 

“Doesn’t matter, son. Nothing else matters.” Jensen’s voice breaks and his eyes fill with tears. Nothing Else Matters. Jared had walked down the aisle to that song on their wedding day fifteen years ago. He had looked so handsome, tall, and strong. Now, to see him like this, pale as a ghost and somehow shrunken was devastating. He begins to sob quietly all over again.

“Dad, you’re not the only one who loves him.” Colin clears his throat and forcefully exhales. “Jared will be okay,” he says. “He loves you too much to leave you alone. You’re alive and here and Jay knows it. He’ll pull through, Dad.” Colin drapes an arm across Jensen’s shoulders and does something he’s never done before: he kisses Jensen’s temple.

Jensen closes his eyes and feels tears burn a path down his cheeks. He wants to believe that so much. 

Jared does not improve. He develops a fever. Dr Connell doesn’t look or sound optimistic when he comes in to explain that Jared has developed an infection. It just adds more to what he already knows. Jared is going to die. He knows she doesn’t like him, doesn’t want him in here, but he’ll be damned if he’s ordered away from his husband’s private room. 

Jensen should have known. Things had been too good for too long. He should have known a hellish bill was going to come due. He hadn’t thought it would be this steep. The price of his own absolute certainty, his _arrogance_ , that nothing could happen to Jared. He tries to tell himself that Jared is still reasonably young—fifty-four wasn’t that old in the grand scheme of things when some people lived well into their nineties—that Jared was strong, had always been in excellent health, and that he is receiving the very best of care. None of that stands up to the knowledge that Jared was fucking shot in the chest, that chest had been _cracked open_ to first find and repair the damage the bullet had caused, and that Jared had coded _twice_ in the OR. Twice Jared had fucking _died_. And now Jared was running a fever of 103. 

“Mr. Ackles,” Dr. Connell says, there is a musical lilt in her voice some accent that Jensen’s exhausted, anxiety-riddled mind can’t place. “There honestly isn’t anything you can do for him. You need some sleep and to take care of yourself.” He can hear the poise, the forced civility in her tone. It makes Jensen bristle all the more. He does not want an adversarial relationship with the person in charge of Jared’s care, but he cannot get this woman to understand that Jared _needs_ him here as much as Jensen needs to be here for him. 

“I will see that you are immediately informed of any change in his condition.”

“I’m not leaving,” Jensen states emphatically. “If Jared wakes up the only thing he is going to want to see or know is that I am here and alive. So goddamn it I’m going to be here. It’s my fault he’s even in here!” Jensen’s voice breaks and his eyes fill with tears. He does not want to cry in front of this stranger, this cold woman. He pauses, closes his eyes and tries to reach for the bit of him that is still Ice-Cold Ackles. “He took that bullet for me. You want me out of here you better be ready to drag me out and I guarantee you can’t do it.”

Hours, days, weeks pass. Jensen doesn’t fucking know anymore. The ICU is centrally located within the sprawling hospital building . The window in the room is small and narrow. Most of the time Jensen can’t tell if it’s day or night. He only leaves the room to piss. If he needs a drink of water, he fills a disposable cup from the sink in the room. He is beyond exhausted. His back aches from sitting in the stiff plastic chair, but he won’t leave. He’ll doze off for a bit, but always dreams of blood and Jared’s wheezes and gasps as he struggles for breath and wakes with his heart pounding fit to burst and tears in his eyes.

At some point, Police Chief Whitfield and a couple of detectives on the Organization’s payroll come by and question Jensen about the shooting. Jensen is aware enough to know this is perfunctory. Whitfield and other contacts within the department will hush everything up, but it has to look and smell right. So, Jensen answers a few questions; then, is left alone again. 

Nurses come in and out to record Jared’s vitals, check the machines, and ask after Jensen. He brushes them off. He’s not the important one here. He might as well be on that bed, and intubated with Jared. Jared is his life and his reason without him Jensen has nothing and will cease. His mind drifts again to the heavy gun in his jacket. He takes comfort in the fact that once Jared goes Jensen won’t have to wait too long before they’ll be together again in whatever hereafter there is. Heaven, Hell, Purgatory, or Limbo it won’t matter. Life without Jared would be a joyless black void.

Jensen drifts not really asleep but not awake either, when he hears the door open and footsteps. Not a nurse or doctor. A man stands beside Jensen. Under the disinfectant, Jensen smells Bleu by Chanel. It makes Jensen’s eyes mist. That’s Jared’s cologne but Colin favors it as well. 

Jensen wasn’t sure how many times this makes that Colin had come to check on his father. Or maybe he was checking on Jensen. 

“Dad? I brought you some clothes. Yours have blood all over them.”

Jensen gazes down at himself and indeed he is still dressed in the tux he had worn to his birthday party. Jared’s blood is on his crisp white shirt in finger-shaped smears, probably from Jensen’s hands, which also have dried blood on them. His trousers, though black, also have blood on them. At least he can’t see it. The rust-colored bloodstains on his shirt are an accusation and indictment every time Jensen glimpses them. _This is because of you, Jensen. That bullet was meant for you. It should be you_. If Jared makes it through this Jensen was never celebrating another birthday. He never could, it would feel like celebrating the day Jared got shot. No. Never. 

“If I can’t get you to do anything else, will you please change, Dad? You don’t even have to leave the room to do it. And I brought you some good coffee. The coffee here or in that machine will rot your guts.” He can hear Colin trying for levity but it doesn’t land, not with the atmosphere thick with grief and guilt.

Jensen takes the coffee cup and ignores the proffered clothes. He takes a sip and curls his lip in distaste. “It’s black.” Jensen says and sets the coffee aside.

“I know, Dad. That’s how you take it,” Colin says in a patronizing tone. 

“Lots of cream and sugar next time.” He needs the caffeine fix, but for some reason can’t stomach drinking it black. 

“The kids know something is wrong. Jaysen especially. I’d appreciate it if you came home with me to see them for a bit.”

Jensen scoffs, shakes his head. Colin had brass ones alright. That is fucking low. Dirty fucking pool, to use Jensen’s grandkids against him. It will not work. He loved his grandkids—still a bit surreal to use that word—but Jared was everything. 

“No.”

“Dad, you need to sleep in a real bed. You need to eat. It’s not good for you to be here all the time.” Colin’s hands are on Jensen, attempting to pull Jensen out of his chair. 

As exhausted, as robotic as Jensen feels, something primal inside him registers that Colin is trying to take Jensen away from Jared and he _snaps_. Adrenaline pulses through him. He surges to his feet, and pulls Jared’s gun from his jacket. “No!” Jensen snarls, leveling the gun at Colin. 

Colin’s jaw drops and he takes a step back. He gapes at Jensen in utter shock and maybe a healthy dose of fear. That little bastard has forgotten just who Jensen fucking is. 

“Don’t you _ever_ try to take me away from him! You understand this, Colin: I’m not leaving unless Jared wakes up and we walk out together or we’re wheeled out side by side in body bags. Get the fuck out of here. _Now_.”

Colin rallies. His spine stiffens, shoulders straighten. That fucking stubborn jaw the shoulders stiff and straight. The man looks so much like Jared in that moment Jensen’s heart breaks a little more. 

His eyes yield nothing. He nods curtly and departs. 

The strength runs out of Jensen and he collapses back into the uncomfortable chair, stowing the gun he will use to end his life when Jared’s body lets go.

Jensen cradles the plastic drawstring bag labeled PERSONAL BELONGINGS to him. In it were a few of Jared’s things: his shoes, socks, slacks, wallet, phone, and his Audemars Piguet watch. Jensen was a little surprised no one had tried to steal it. The watch was worth a small fortune. Jensen would know. He had given it to Jared for his fiftieth birthday. The ward is quiet, so Jensen assumes it is night time. He opens the bag and rummages through the items inside. Jared’s shirt, waistcoat, tie, and jacket aren’t among the items inside, presumably because they were ruined with blood and having been cut open. He inhales deeply, smelling Chanel Bleu. His throat closes up. They had been so happy at the party, so ready to let everything go. He should have known it wouldn’t have been that easy. 

He takes out Jared’s wallet, opens it up. Inside are all his cards, IDs, business cards. No cash. Jared rarely carried cash. He plucked out Jared’s phone, easily unlocking it. He didn’t care about the apps or contacts. What Jensen wanted to see was the photos and videos. There were several photos of Jaysen and Meggie. Colin and Jared. Jared and Emma. And Jensen. A lot of pics of Jensen. There was a deeper folder, protected, but Jensen was easily able to access it. He already knew what it would contain. Several nudes he had sent Jared, and videos Jared had sent to Jensen, videos of them together, some x-rated some just quiet moments or random. 

If Jared…. If he…. These things would be all Jensen would be left with. He couldn’t fill the rest of his life with empty clothes, racy pics and videos, or an island paradise. He puts Jared’s phone, wallet and watch into his jacket pocket and once again feels the weight of Jared’s gun. 

“Jared…please…don’t leave.”

For a fucking ICU ward Jared’s room gets a lot of traffic, and not just from the nurses coming in and doing their rounds. The door to Jared’s room opens again. The shoes don’t sound like nurses and the tread isn’t male. He inhales, and, under all the medicinal smells, he gets a whiff of Chanel No. 5. Emma takes a seat beside him and lays her blonde head on his shoulder. 

“He’s worried about you,” Emma says softly. “Both of you. And he feels helpless.”

“I won’t leave him.”

“I know, Jensen. I wouldn’t ask you to.” She lifts her head from his shoulder. “I brought you coffee and something to eat. Your favorite: BLT and a piece of cherry pie.” She reaches into a cavernous, but fashionable, purse and extracts a thermos, a glass container with a thick sandwich and another with a piece of lattice top pie. “I’ll just set it here.” She stands and places the items on the over-bed table. She looks very beautiful in a steely blue pants suit; the color really brings out her eyes, and Jensen knows Jared would be able to name the designer. Hell, Jared probably helped Emma pick it out. They love going shopping together. Jensen used to be glad that Jared had someone else with which to share his love of fashion and shopping. Now, he would give anything for Jared to drag him to a suit fitting.

“Your suit,” Jensen says.

Emma grins. “Yves Saint Laurent. The bag is Hermes. Had to look my best to visit Jared. Oh!” She digs back into her bag. “Brought these for Jared.” She pulls out a saran wrapped package of wafer-thin cookies. They are Jared’s favorite: brown butter and toffee chocolate chip cookies.

Jensen wants to cry, but he’s so wrung out, so dried out, hollowed out. He appreciates Emma not saying all the usual—but well meaning—platitudes or ignoring Jared. Jared is the one who had his chest cracked open, coded twice in the OR, is on a ventilator, and who is running a high fever, but Jensen is the one everyone is worried about. Jensen is fucking fine. 

“Who’s watching the kids?” Jensen asks and reaches for the container with the sandwich. 

“Kat and Alex. The Crew are with Colin at the Ranch. Tommy is doing damage control. Mike went to Colombia to reassure the Organization’s contacts down there that things are fine.”

He pops the lid on the food container and breathes in the smell of bacon. His stomach both rumbles with hunger and clenches with guilt as he thinks about eating while Jared hooked up to tubes and wires. 

“Colin blames himself for all this.”

“It’s not his fault.” Jensen takes a small bite of the sandwich, chews, and swallows mechanically. “I gave the okay to his plan. It’s on me.”

“You stopped being the leader when you okayed his plan and we both know it. Doesn’t matter now, really. Colin will keep going until he’s satisfied. And the way he is now? He won’t be satisfied for a long, long time.” 

“Colin mentioned he and his guys got whoever was responsible.”

“They did,” she confirms. “Some mook named Travis Wade, the late Angie Marchesi’s boyfriend. The Family didn’t approve of him because he wasn’t Sicilian or even Italian, so he wasn’t invited to Mass with the rest of them. Colin had associates and soldiers stationed in and around the hotel, some disguised as guests, others as employees. The bastard didn’t even make it out of the room before they had him. He ratted out a couple of accomplices right away. They were rounded up and taken to The Ranch.”

A couple of bites was all Jensen can manage of the sandwich; in a distant way he realizes it is delicious but can’t enjoy it and doubts he’ll keep it down. His stomach won’t stop churning with guilt and anxiety. He places it back into the glass container, and sets the container back on the table. Jensen appreciates that Emma doesn’t badger him to finish the sandwich or eat the pie. He reaches for the thermos of coffee. 

“What did he think would happen if his plan succeeded and you were killed?” Emma continues. “He could just slink away unpunished? Never. Jared and Colin would nuke the entire United States to find him and when they did, they would have shown no mercy. Colin won’t as it is.”

Jensen unscrews the lid and takes a sip of coffee. It’s way too sweet and diluted with far too much cream. Jared would love it; Jensen decides maybe obscene amounts of cream and sugar in it isn’t so bad. “Colin is like his father that way. Jared had no mercy on the guy who kidnapped me.”

“Jared killed Collins,” Emma states. “That in itself was a mercy. Colin won’t do the same to Wade.”

“Good.” Jensen says softly, feeling himself start to smile. He’s not a religious man but he believes there is a force, neither good nor evil, that guides and manipulates people and events for a greater purpose. That force had brought Jared and Colin together, father and son.

_Jensen was settled deep in the comfy armchair in the parlor, glass of Macallan at hand and the Eagles playing softly in the background, looking over the resumes of most likely candidates to take over as CEO of Ackles Enterprises. He’s pretty sure he’s got it narrowed down to three: Alona Tal, Felicia Day, and Corin Nemec. All have long histories with the company, impeccable skill sets, and resumes. It’s still a little hard for Jensen, even harder than it will be to turn the reins of the Organization over to Colin. Weird considering he’s spent his time equally between his legitimate and not so legitimate businesses. He’ll probably go with Ms. Day. She is scarily intelligent and ruthless when it comes to business matters. Sometimes he wishes Colin had got an MBA instead of a law degree. It would simplify matters to turn everything over to Colin. Ideally he would like to turn Ackles Enterprises over to someone within the Organization. It would make the money laundering aspect of things easier. Still part of him wants to keep things in the Ackles family; his grandfather started this business from the ground up, it feels wrong to hand it over to anyone but an Ackles. Maybe one day Jaysen or Meggie would be running Ackles Enterprises._

_Jensen hears footsteps, glances up, and observes Colin leaning heavily against the archway. Jensen’s brows knit in a frown._

_“Son?”_

_Colin enters the room and it is clear something is very wrong; his gait is unsteady at best and at worst he seems as if he is going to fall down. Jensen surges up from his chair, bolting across the room._

_“Colin?” Jensen clutches the other man. Terror like ice pumps through his veins. Has Colin been shot?_

_Colin exhales and Jensen is punched in the face by the stench of alcohol on his breath. Colin smells like a goddamn distillery. He has a moment of relief when he realizes that Colin hasn’t been shot but is in fact drunk. Fresh alarm shoots through him. He never drinks, not even a finger of scotch after a hard day or a glass of wine with dinner. He doesn’t like being out of control of his faculties, but more than that, he doesn’t do it because of all the times he saw his mother drunk and tended to her during her hangovers as a child and teenager. If Colin has allowed himself to get drunk then something devastating must have happened. Jensen’s mind immediately jumps to Emma and the kids. Oh, Christ. Was Jaysen okay? Or little Meggie?_

_“Colin? What the hell is wrong?” His heart is racing in his chest; if the Marchesi’s have done something to Colin’s family, Jared and he will raze Dallas to the ground._

_Colin is waving a piece of paper like a flag. “Gotthisss,” Colin slurs._

_Jensen lowers Colin into a chair and takes the piece of paper, thinking it a threat or photograph of his family in danger. It’s not. It’s just a letter. A letter? Would the Marchesis send a letter? This doesn’t feel like it’s in any way related to the war they are in with them. Another tragic thought occurs to him. Maybe Emma took the kids and left him, decided she had enough blood and violence and left. Jensen can’t read the fucking thing without his glasses. He gropes around and locates them in his pocket. He sits down, perches his glasses on his nose, and reads the missive._

__Dear Colin,

I know you have probably forgotten all about me, but I haven’t forgotten about you. How could I? You’re my only son. __

_Jensen’s jaw drops. Colin got a letter from his mother? Jesus Christ. He looks away from the paper for a moment to his son. He looks utterly dejected, chin on his chest, and cheeks wet with tears. Jensen swallows and returns to reading the letter._

I’m sure you want to know why I’m contacting you after all this time. I’m not going to mince words. I’m dying, Colin. I have end-stage liver disease and I’m currently in hospice care. I need a transplant, but there really isn’t much hope for one. I’m not asking for pity. I neither want nor deserve it. I brought this on myself.

I want to, while I still can, to try and apologize and explain. Will you listen? 

I can’t make up for the pain I have caused you. I don’t blame you for taking off the way you did. By all I’ve seen and heard you have done well for yourself. I am very proud of you. 

I’m sure as you’ve gotten older like most people believe I drowned my grief over Graham’s death with alcohol. That was only part of the reason. The real reason was guilt over the fact that he wasn’t your real father. __

_Oh my fucking God. Jensen swallows and begins to read more quickly. Part of Jensen is furious at this woman for dropping this on Colin, another part is morbidly curious to see what other shit she’s going to lay on his son—his son, goddamn it._

__I was not a good wife to Graham. We got married too young and I never knew how to be one. I was seventeen. I wanted to go out, party, and be young. I did and I got pregnant. I kept it a secret as long as I could and Graham believed you to be his. I never told him otherwise. Watching him dote on you, seeing how much he loved you, hurt me in ways I can’t describe. To numb that pain I drank. When Graham died I drank to numb the pain of his death.

I don’t deserve anything from you, but I would like to see you one last time. Can you find it in you to come see me? Even if it’s just to cuss me out? If not, I understand. 

Love Always, 

Your Mother

_Jensen gapes at the letter, no idea what he can say or do to help Colin. This letter deals two devastating blows: his mother is dying and his father was not his real father._

_The front door opens and closes and Jared strolls into the parlor, grousing. “Got blood on my shirt. I had my damn apron on but she was a bleeder. Twenty-four hundred dollars and it’s ruined.” Jared stops and his eyes fall on Colin sprawled in the armchair completely despondent. He crosses the room in a few wide strides. “Jesus Christ, Jense, what’s wrong with him?” Jared is down on his knee gazing up at Colin. “Kid?” He shakes him gently._

_“He’s drunk, Jared.”_

_Jared’s face scrunches in puzzlement. He shakes his head, as if he heard Jensen wrong. “What?”_

_“Drunk. He got a letter from his mother. She’s dying.”_

_Jared scowls. “What? She tried the oh-poor-me shit with him? Fucking bitch. Want me to take her out?”_

_“Nooooo,” Colin slurs, stirring from his drunken stupor. “Sheee’s muh mom. Don’…don’…don’ kill’er, Jay.”_

_Jared’s eyes cloud with concern at hearing Colin slurring so badly. Jensen is as well. He has no idea how much Colin has had. The man does not drink, and, to Jensen’s knowledge, has never had so much as a sip of alcohol. Was alcohol poisoning something they should be worried about?_

_“Okay, Kid. Okay,” Jared says soothingly. “I won’t. It’s okay.”_

_“I spn’ years missin’ a dude who wasn’t even my real dad.” He gives a wet laugh. Jensen’s heart aches for Colin. It must be like losing his father all over again._

_“He was a fuckin’ goober an’way. Alwas…alwas makin’ ‘cuses for ‘er.” He looks at Jensen, eyes as sad and broken as Jensen has ever seen them. “Where’d I come from?”_

_Oh god. Jensen wishes he could take this pain away. Maybe Colin will be so drunk he won’t remember tomorrow, but Jensen doubts it. What he wouldn’t give to have intercepted that goddamn letter._

_“Wunnr if she evin know who muh fatha’ was. Dussn’ matta. Daz mah Dad.” He waves a hand toward Jensen. “You and Jay ‘r mah daz. Bes’ daz eveur.”_

_Jensen’s heart clenches. Even Jared’s eyes soften and mist over._

_“Jin’sn taught me to be a man, s‘pect, loyally. Gave meh a home, a real home. Sent mah to gud schools. Jr’d taught me style ‘n el’ganc. ‘preciate thin’s. ‘s’what daz r supps’a do.”_

_Jensen glances at Jared and sees his own heartbreak, concern and love for Colin reflected there. And his words slurred but absolutely from the heart have rocked Jensen. He had never thought he would have a child but through happenstance Colin ended up being just that: his child. The love, respect, and admiration Colin has for Jensen, Jensen is not sure he deserves it. He knows Jared feels the same way._

_“Colin, let’s get you to bed, okay?” Jared says gently. “You’ll feel better after you sleep it off.” He hefts Colin out of the chair and to his feet with a grunt._

_“Emma!” He weakly fists his hands in Jared’s lapels. “Don’ don’ tak’ meh home.”_

_“Wasn’t planning on it, Kid. Was gonna take you upstairs to your old room. Emma and the kids don’t need to see you like this. Jense’ll call them and tell them something.”_

_“No! Dun’ do dat, Dad. No ‘scuses. You ‘n Jare dun lie ‘n keep secretsss. ‘m not doing that shit with Ems.” He turns drunken eyes to Jensen. “You hear me, Dad? Dun’ lie to m’wife. Jus’ tell her I got drunk but ‘m okay or I will be.”_

_Jensen gives a stiff nod._

_“All right, mini-me, let’s go,” Jared says. “Think you can walk a little or should I just—”_

_Colin collapses, but Jared has him, arms tight around him and holding him up. Jensen darts forward to help but Jared waves him off._

_“I got ‘im. Call Emma. Let her know he’s okay. I’ll get him to bed and stay with ‘im for awhile,” Jared says hefting Colin up bridal style. “He’ll be okay, Jense. I’ll take care of ‘im.” He bends and kisses Jensen’s mouth before he’s leaving to put Colin to bed._

_After he had called Emma and told her Colin had a rough day and was staying at the main house, he headed upstairs to check on his son. Colin was out cold on the bed. Jared had stripped him down to his underwear and rolled over onto his side. Jared was in a chair near the bed keeping vigil. Jensen’s not sure how much more his heart can take. He enters the room to stand beside his husband._

_“Why do dying people feel the need to spill family secrets? It doesn’t help anything. All it does is spread misery.” He turns his attention away from Colin to Jensen. “You go to bed, babe. I’ll stay with him.”_

_“I love you. So much,” Jensen says._

_“Love you, too. Now, go get some beauty sleep. You’re not getting any younger, you know.”_

_“Fuck you,” Jensen retorts. He bends and gives Jared a deep soul-kiss._

_Jensen heads up to their room on the third floor. He doesn’t think he’ll sleep but around three he falls into a light sleep._

_He doesn’t know if Colin will go see his mother or not, Jensen won’t offer advice either way. When Donna had died Jensen hadn’t felt sad about her death. She had passed peacefully in her sleep at the age of ninety-three. His grief had been a distant and disconnected thing, stemming from the finality of it all; they would never have a chance at some kind of reconciliation._

_The sky is lightening, as Jared comes into their bedroom. Jensen turns on the bedside lamp and sits up, abandoning all pretense of trying to sleep._

_“He okay?”_

_“He puked a couple times. I got him to drink some water and take some aspirin before he passed out again. He’ll be okay.”_

_Jensen drags a hand down his face. As Jared gets closer he can see a stain on Jared’s shirt, Colin must have puked on him. “He’s a fucking mess. What are we gonna do, Jense?”_

_Jensen sighs. He’d been turning that exact question over in his mind and still doesn’t have an answer. “It’s not enough we got this shit with the Marchesis, now Colin gets this fucking dropped in his lap.”_

_“The shit he said down in your office hit me in places I didn’t even know I had,” Jared says, unbuttoning his soiled shirt. “I love that fucking kid; love him like he was my own. I don’t want to see him hurting like this.”_

_Jensen smiles wanly. “I know. We’ll do the only thing we can do for him and be here.”_

_“Think he’ll go see her?”_

_“I don’t know,” Jensen says musingly. “Maybe you should.”_

_Jared tossed his shirt away and smirked as he began to remove his slacks. “I know the kid and I look alike but I’m in my fifties, Jense. I doubt his mom would mistake me for her son.” He goes in the closet to carefully hang his slacks up._

_“That’s not what I mean,” Jensen says. “There was something she said in the letter that’s got me suspicious.”_

_Jared exits the walk-in gloriously naked, and climbs into bed. “What was it?”_

_“The part where she mentions that Colin has done well for himself.”_

_Jared gets comfortable, spreading his long legs out and snuggling into his pillow, eyes closing. Jensen gazes down at him, noticing that he’s getting more crow’s feet, deeper lines around his mouth, and more grey in his hair. For some reason it hits Jensen that he and Jared are getting old. And Jensen is getting increasingly tired of his role in the Organization. He wants more than anything to retire, for him and Jared to go to their island in the Caribbean and live happily as beach bums, eating fish and fruit and sailing around the turquoise blue water, snorkeling with the fish and turtles, going to sleep to the sound of the waves and gulls. He knows they can’t though, not while this war with the Marchesis is going on. He won’t abandon his people, his friends, during a time when they are looking to him for leadership and strength more than they ever have. He will see them through this fucking war then he and Jared are fucking done. Colin is more than ready to take the reins._

_“Think she’s sniffing around for a handout?” Jared asks sleepily, not opening his eyes. “Want me to run some interference for our son?”_

_Jensen’s heart stutters as Jared refers to Colin as “our” son. He’s never done that before._

_“Maybe. I don’t trust her. Maybe she is sick, or maybe she smells the money. I’m not going to let our son be used as a fucking ATM. Go see her, feel her out. You’ll be able to tell if she’s trying to make peace or if it’s just an act.”_

_“Gotta head back to The Ranch in a bit. Having Angie Marchesi in our possession requires an expert touch. Once things calm down there, I’ll go see ‘er.” Jared puckers his lips and makes obnoxious smooching noises._

_Jensen grins, leans down, and kisses his husband._

_Four days later Jensen is waiting on tenterhooks for Jared to come back from the Crossroads Hospice facility in Plano. When the door to his office opens, and Jared walks in, Jensen immediately knows that something is very wrong. Jared’s color is hectic and high but he looks like a zombie, moving mechanically._

_“Jare?” Jensen asks surging to his feet. “What’s wrong?” He strides quickly across the room. He closes the door and places a hand on Jared’s back. “Babe?”_

_Jensen’s heart thunders in his chest, can feel it pulsing in his temples. He guides Jared to a chair and Jared falls heavily down into it. “Jared, please, talk to me. What did she say?”_

_Jared swallows audibly; then, lifts his head to meet Jensen’s concerned gaze. “Jense…I…I think I’m Colin’s father.”_

_“What?” Jensen asks blankly. “Come on. Stop fucking with me and tell me what she said.”_

_“I’m trying!” Jared lashes out. “Give me a goddamn minute, Jensen! I’m kinda in shock here.”_

_Jensen realizes then that Jared is not joking about this. His knees unhinge and he collapses into the chair across from Jared. How can Jared possibly be Colin’s father?_

_“I went to sound her out about why she contacted Colin, like you told me to.” Jared runs a hand through his hair and by the state of it he has been doing that a lot. “She’s not lying about being sick. She’s…. It’s bad. I asked her about the letter, about Colin’s father, and if she knew who he might be. She was a regular good-time party-girl back then. Around the time she got pregnant she was hooking up with….” Jared swallows again, rubs his hands on his thighs. “A guy named Cagney Bogart.” He gazes at Jensen with tormented eyes. “Jense, I used to go by that name back in the day.”_

_It all clicks into place for Jensen then. Jared has said, on the few occasions he had talked about his sexual history, that before he came to terms with being gay, he fucked a lot of girls. Oh Christ, one of them was Colin’s mother? Another teenage wild-child like himself? Jared loves old timey gangster movies and the name Cagney Bogart is a name Jensen can see a young Jared using._

_“I also went by Jimmy Robinson or Eddie Humphries,” Jared says. “I never gave anyone my real name because I was always afraid of being put back in foster care, even after I turned eighteen. Let’s face it, a name like Padalecki isn’t exactly inconspicuous. I never even told Petey my name until he had been taking care of me for a year, that’s why he always called me Kid. What the fuck are we gonna do?”_

_Jensen does not fucking know. What he does know is that are going to tell Colin nothing about this. He has enough to be dealing with._

_“This is fuckin’ nuts!” Jared exclaims, raking a hand through his hair. “I know there have been jokes over the years about Colin looking like me and shit but goddamn!”_

_“I suppose we should have a paternity test done,” Jensen says. They should and could, just to confirm, but Jensen knows in his heart that Jared is Colin’s biological father. He can see that Jared knows it, too. “I still don’t understand, Jared. When you were eighteen you had come to terms with being gay. Why were you fucking women?”_

_Jared raked his hand through his hair again. The color in his face drained and his eyes shuttered, and Jensen knew what Jared was going to talk about. “Did…did Fuller have you fuck girls?” Jensen asks gently._

_Jared sank deeper into the chair. He shook his head but wouldn’t make eye contact. “No. Besides, you know what he was into; he liked little girls. Colin’s mother would have been my age or close to it. Working for Fuller I didn’t want to hook up with guys on what little free time I had. That was the last thing I wanted, but I was still young and hormonal. I’d hook up with chicks. They were small, soft, and smelled good. The exact opposite if the fat stinking Johns Fuller pimped me out to. They never meant anything other than a distraction and escape._

_“Jense,” Jared looks at him then, seemingly lost and scared. “What if…what if Colin hates me? Or starts to resent me?”_

_Jensen can one-up him. What if Colin starts to draw away from Jensen in favor of his natural father? What if he stops calling Jensen Dad in favor of Jared? The very worst case scenario would be Colin cutting them both out of his life. No. Jensen reconsiders his earlier position. They cannot keep this from him. If they do Colin will never forgive them. He gropes in his pocket for his phone. He finds it and scrolls through his contacts._

_“Jense? Jense, what are you doing?”_

_“Calling Colin. We can’t keep this from him, Jared. He will never trust us again if we do, or if he goes to see her and works it out on his own.”_

_Jared pales. He wipes his hand over his mouth but nods._

_Jensen punches Colin’s contact info. The phone rings a few times before Colin comes on the line. “Dad?” Jensen’s heart clenches at that. “Something wrong?”_

_“Are you busy, Colin?”_

_“Not exactly.” Jensen can hear a woman weeping in the background interspersed with masculine grunts. “Just a sec.” There is a scream before a heavy door closes off all sound. “What’s up?”_

_“You need to come to the main house ASAP, son. Jared and I need to talk to you.”_

_“Dad?” Colin inquires, cautious and concerned. “Is everything okay? The Marchesis haven’t done anything have they?”_

_“This isn’t about the Marchesis, Colin. Please get here as soon as you can. Jared and I are in my office.”_

_“Yeah. Yeah, sure Dad. I’m on my way.”_

_It takes Colin twenty minutes that feels both like twenty years and twenty seconds before he’s walking into Jensen’s office. Jensen and Jared turn towards the door as one and Jesus. Now that they know it’s painfully obvious Colin belongs to Jared. How hadn’t they noticed before?_

_Jared grabs Jensen’s hand, laces their fingers together, and squeezes hard. Jensen squeezes back._

_Colin’s eyes—always so like Jared’s—narrow, every line in his body radiating caution. “Dad, what is going on?”_

_“I went to talk to your mother.”_

_Colin scoffs and he relaxes. “What? She hit you up for some cash? Maybe use your stroke to get her moved up the transplant list.”_

_“I’m your father, Colin.” Jared blurts._

_“Okay, Darth Vader,” Colin says with an eye roll. He turns to Jensen. “Dad, what is going on?”_

_“Jared’s telling the truth, Colin. He—that is he suspects, we’re not sure yet—is your biological father.”_

_Colin’s brows come together as his eyes move from Jense to Jared and back again, assessing reading everything in their eyes and body language. “I…I don’t understand how that’s possible. Why are you saying this?”_

_Jared’s hand grips Jensen’s tighter. Any tighter and he might crack a bone, but Jensen will not tell Jared to ease up or let go, he needs Jensen’s strength right now._

_“I ran kinda wild when I was young. Fucked around a lot,” Jared says, giving Colin a very condensed version of events._

_“This is ridiculous. I know I got drunk and upset you both, but you don’t need this elaborate ruse to make me feel better about my mom being a drunken slut who didn’t know who my real father was. It damn sure wasn’t you Jared.”_

_“Colin,” Jensen snaps, putting some authority in his voice. “Listen to him. This isn’t some ruse we cooked up. We wouldn’t do that to you. He went to see your mother at the hospice.”_

_“She gave me a name, Colin, an alias I used to go by back in the day.”_

_“Stop it! Stop fucking lying to me!” Colin shouts, looking distraught._

_“You want a fucking DNA test?” Jared snaps. He lets go of Jensen’s hand; his ire up now. He steps up to Colin—his son, Jesus Christ, his real flesh and blood son—and shoves him. “You fucking think I’d lie about this, you little bastard?”_

_Jensen feels frozen, eyes ping-ponging between the two. Now that they are standing toe to toe and nose to nose, the similarities are even stronger: height, build, sharp cheekbones and jawlines; the fire in their eyes._

_“Fuck you, Jared.” Colin shoves him back. “And fuck you, too, Jensen, for going along with this…whatever this is.”_

_Jensen feels like he’s been stabbed as Colin uses Jensen’s name instead of calling him Dad. He swallows down the hurt. “Can’t you fucking see?” Jensen pleads. “You look just like him! You always have!”_

_Not only in looks but even this, Colin turning an uncomfortable emotion into anger, is very much a Jared trait. Under the hurt, the reality is dawning in Colin that they are telling the truth. Jared is his father._

_“I don’t understand,” Colin says but his voice had more of a plea in it._

_Jared takes a step closer to his son. Colin backs away. “I’m trying to help you understand, Kid,” Jared says softly. “I went to see your mother, sort of sound her out about why she sent that letter, sniff out any ulterior motives.”_

_Colin’s brows lower in a scowl. “And what? She recognized you?” Colin says cynically. “I’m sure you looked just like this as a teenager.” He rolls his eyes, like Jared’s only with more blue._

_“No, she said she was pretty sure a guy named Cagney Bogart was the one who got her pregnant.”_

_Colin’s eyes close and he sighs deeply. Jensen can see it. The moment Colin finally starts to believe. “Cagney Bogart,” he murmurs. “James Cagney. Humphrey Bogart.” He gazes at Jared, “your favorite old movie actors.”_

_“Not exactly a clever alias, I know,” Jared shrugs._

_“You really think you’re my dad?”_

_“No,_ Jensen _is your dad. I just provided a little DNA.”_

_Jensen’s heart feels like it might explode with all the emotion he can’t contain._

_Colin nods. “I’d still like a DNA test, but I believe you. This is fuckin’ surreal.”_

_“Tell me about it,” Jensen says, but the tension that had been running through him drains._

_“I love you, Kid. Jense and I both do.”_

“Colin will want to come by again and check on you and Jared. I assume that’d be okay?” Emma asks.

“As long as he doesn’t try to get me to leave.”

“He won’t. I love you, Jensen.” She gives him a kiss on his scruffy cheek and stands. She takes a few steps closer to Jared’s bedside, bends, and kisses his feverish forehead. “Love you too, you diva.” She whispers to him. 

Jensen holds himself together long enough for Emma to leave before he’s burying his head in his hands and crying. Everyone who visits pays attention to Jensen, even the nurses seem more worried about him. But Emma, brought Jared cookies, and kissed him, treated him like he was there and not just part of the scenery. He doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to tell her how much that meant to him.


	4. Chapter 4

Jensen dozes and dreams, not for the first time, of blood and screams. He jerks awake with a light tapping on the door. 

“Dad?”

Jensen sighs, dragging a hand down his face. “Yes, Colin.”

“Can I come in? Talk to you and Jay?” 

“Yeah.”

Colin sits beside Jensen. “Hey, Jay. Aren’t you tired of Dad being here all the time? Nevermind. Everyone knows the answer to that.” Colin smiles but it’s a wan hollow version of his usual smile. 

Jensen knows Colin is trying to make amends after his last visit and loves him for it. But there is an awkwardness and stiffness in Colin’s mannerisms. 

“Ems gave me these to bring.” He extracts another saran wrapped stack of Jared’s favorite cookies. Jensen ate the last ones. “And coffee.” He sets the items on the over-the-bed table. “Jay, don’t eat like that all the time. You’re in your fifties now, you’ll get fat.”

Jensen smiles despite himself. He’s not so out of it he doesn’t understand what scheme Colin is running. He’s trying to play up to Jensen, probably gearing up to ask him to leave again. If he fucking does Jensen will haul off and punch the little shit.

“You okay, Kid?” Jensen asks as Colin sits and lets out a tired sigh. 

“No, I’m not okay, Dad. I’m fucking worried about you.”

Not this shit again. He is fed up with the worried or sympathetic looks from everyone who glances at him. “That is your father and you act like you don’t even _care_ how hurt he is.”

Hurt flashes in Colin’s eyes before he rallies. “That is not true. He’s getting the best treatment. He’s going to be fine. It’s _you_ that I’m worried about! You haven’t left this hospital, this _room_ , in two, almost three days now. You look _terrible_. You haven’t changed your clothes. I can smell that you haven’t showered. You’re exhausted. You’re scared. You’re probably lonely. Have you even slept?”

“Who is the goddamned parent here?” Jensen barks. “You tend to your kids, of which I am not one. Get the hell out of here, Colin.”

Colin is not to be deterred. “You’re still stuck in that moment when Jared was shot. You can’t see anything but dark now, Dad, and that _scares_ me.” Colin’s voice wavers and Jensen makes the mistake of looking over at the other man. Colin really does have his father’s eyes, fucking lethal when they are naked and pleading like this. Jensen turns his gaze back to his intubated husband on the bed. Jared’s the important one. When—if—Jared dies and Jensen does what he has to, Colin will be fine. He’ll have Emma, and the kids to lean on. 

“Please come home with me. Just to shower and change. I’ll bring you right back.”

Jensen knows Colin is hoping that once he gets Jensen out of here, around Jaysen and little Meggie Jensen will melt and forget about Jared. That would never happen, much as he adores the little ones. “Get out of here, Colin.”

Colin sighs and stands. He places a hand on Jensen’s shoulder and gives a hard squeeze. “I know what you’re thinking about doing. Please don’t. Jared is not the only person who loves and needs you. Think about Jaysen and Meggie first.” Another squeeze to his shoulder and the click of heels on the tile as Colin leaves.

_The front door bursts open. Jensen pushes to his feet and draws his gun. For a heart-stopping moment, he thinks the Marchesis have finally launched an invasion of the Ackles Compound. God knows they could be as their attacks have grown bolder since Jared and Colin returned Angie Marchesi back to the bosom of her loving Family, raped and disfigured. Everyone knew doing so would have serious repercussions, and were on their guard. Colin had secreted Emma and the kids away to a safe location, known only to him and out of Texas; the same was true for family members and loved ones of other Organization members._

_Even though the Marchesis attacks were more brazen, they were also stupider and more desperate, which spoke of anger than careful planning and thoughtful execution. Case in point, a couple of weeks ago some Marchesi capos were seen infiltrating the Ackles Enterprises building, and attempting to plant explosive devices in the basement and Jensen’s office. Had they been careful in their planning they would have known that would never have worked. Aldis, Chad Lindberg, and Osric Chau had been in the building working late on a new line of software and caught the intruders. Lindberg had been killed; Osric and Aldis wounded before Aldis killed the two associates and secured the building._

_The counter attacks the Organization executed were as cold and clinical as they have always been. Mad Mike had used his connections to disrupt their flow of drugs, undercutting and stealing their suppliers and customers. Matt Cohen and Jake Abel had disrupted their penny ante smuggling and counterfeiting rings. They couldn’t move any goods in or out of the state. Slowly their revenue streams were drying up. The Marchesis were still in legal hot water. Their manpower was significantly reduced. The Marchesis had money but Jensen had_ wealth _. He could afford a long siege._

_Jensen pulls the hammer back and pivots to face the invader. He aims his gun, finger pressing against the trigger, but immediately points his weapon at the ceiling when he realizes it’s Colin. The man’s face was flushed and his eyes were wet. Heart rate, which had been coldly calm even as he thought he was facing a Marchesi invasion, shoots up like a rocket._

_“What?”_

_“Tahmoh is dead and Brock was almost killed.”_

_“What happened?”_

_“Marchesi affiliated goons walked up and shot Tahmoh! Only reason Brock wasn’t killed too was because Tahmoh pushed him away! I loved Brock!” Colin shouted, but as powerful and full of anger as his voice it was, there was also sorrow and grief beneath. “He was the first person I fell in love with and they fucking tried to kill him! Imagine if they had known our history. They probably would have targeted him sooner! This shit has to stop, Dad! How much longer before they target Emma?” His anguished eyes pinned Jensen’s. “Or Jay?”_

_An icy hand squeezes Jensen’s heart at the thought. He wants to rationalize that it could never happen. Anyone willing to go after Jared, with his reputation of an insane mix of ruthlessness and brutality, would be foolish in the extreme or suicidal. Jensen knows it could happen, knows with the way the Marchesis have been escalating things the possibility of Emma and the kids being targets, Jared being a target, is very real. He supposes he’s gotten too complacent with the shield of Jared’s reputation. He does not want Jared’s blood—or Emma and the kids’—on his hands. “What do you propose we do?”_

_“Kill them. All of them. I have a plan. They’re Catholics, right? Midnight Mass for Christmas is coming up. They’ll all be together, associates, soldiers, capos, and the Marchesis themselves, in one place. Let me take them all out in one shot.”_

_Jensen has been in this life since he was sixteen; killed for the first time when he was nineteen. Ordered the deaths of dozens, assisted in interrogations but something in him recoils at Colin’s idea. He’s not religious or even a particularly spiritual, but the idea of murdering in a holy building on a holy day tests his limits._

_“Dad.” Colin’s voice is hard, a bit of a challenge in it. “You want me to take over soon. You’ve been grooming me for this position since I was seventeen. AJ is dead. Travis is dead. Kane’s dead. Stevie Guitar is dead. Chad Lindburg is dead. Now, Tahmoh. How many more lives is it gonna take, Dad, for you to stop fucking around?”_

_“Watch it!” Jensen warns, stung by the accusation. “You tread very carefully, Colin. You are my son, and I love you, but you watch yourself. You speak to me with respect and never forget you still answer to me.”_

_A year ago, hell, a few months ago, Colin would have cowed and backed down, but not now. He doesn’t bow his head or avert his gaze. “That’s why I’m_ asking _for your permission to do this.” Colin took a step closer, shoulders and back straight. Unlike his father, when Colin’s bloodlust is aroused, his eyes grow even more arctic and his face scarily devoid of emotion._

_“Next time it will be my family or Jay, and you fucking know it. Taking out the Marchesis is what needs to be done. This fucking push-pull tug of war is accomplishing nothing. Jay’s on board with my plan; he knows it needs to be done.” He takes another step closer to Jensen. Jensen takes a step back. “You know it needs to be done, too. So, find your fucking balls and let me do it.”_

_That is one trespass too much. Jensen pulls his fist back and slugs Colin right across his chiseled jaw. The other man’s head whips to the side on impact._

_“What did I fucking say? You_ respect _me, boy! Not because I’m your Dad, but because I’ve been running this business longer than you’ve been alive!”_

_Colin recovers almost instantly, wipes the blood from his mouth. “You won’t be if you keep sitting back while the Marchesis spill our blood.”_

_Jensen feels cold steal over him. Colin isn’t threatening him, merely pointing out the danger the Organization is in if Jensen doesn’t step up and make the Marchesis pay for their transgressions. Colin seems to soften, his posture relaxes and he sighs._

_“Dad, you are losing your stomach for this business. Let me end this. Then you and Jared can retire to your island; like you want to, like you both deserve.”_

_It’s not easy to hear, but he knows it’s true. Colin is not being accusatory, he’s voicing thoughts Jensen’s been having as well. He had felt out of his depth since this shit started. Maybe he was too old school. The game the Marchesis were playing didn’t follow rules or patterns Jensen knew. Lazaro Marchesi would never have pulled the shit that his kids were. The old Don had operated the way Jensen did, the way Alan had._

_“Yes.” Jensen says, and he knows it’s the last order he will ever give. When the Marchesis are gone, Colin will be the leader of the Organization. “Do it. End this.”_

_When the Holy Trinity Catholic Church explodes at 12:02 AM on Christmas, killing all the Marchesis Jensen allows himself to breathe a sigh of relief. The war is over, Colin is firmly at the helm and soon Jared and he will be off to retire in peace and tropical bliss._

The door to Jared’s room opens and someone takes the seat beside Jensen. He knows it’s not Colin. Colin doesn’t smell like leather, tobacco, and vaguely of motor oil.

“Hey, Jensen,” Doc Morgan rumbles in a deep voice. “They tell you what’s going on?”

Doc Morgan, though not employed by the hospital anymore still has some pull and Jensen allowed him as Jared and Jensen’s private physician, to be informed of Jared’s medical status.

“He’s got an infection,” Jensen says dully. 

“Yes, and that is always a risk with gunshot wounds. They gave Tetanus prophylaxis as a precaution, but Jared has a bacterial infection, and that is why they are giving him those antibiotics. There is also a risk of sepsis. Jared doesn’t have that.” 

Jensen can’t tell if there is a ‘yet’ implied in there or not. He thinks not. If Jared had that or was at risk of developing that Doc Morgan would say so. He’s never bullshitted Jensen before. 

“I’m not trying to scare you more, Jensen. Shit is bad, but it could be worse. Jared is in serious condition but stable. When he was brought in he was critical, but I’m cautiously optimistic he’ll recover.”

Jensen scoffs. 

“Who has the medical degree here, me or you?”

Doc Morgan has got Jensen there. JD is better at understanding and interpreting what Jared’s doctors say whereas all Jensen hears is “coded twice. Massive blood loss. Coded twice. Pericardial sac. Coded twice. Codedtwicecodedtwicecoded _twice_.” Now with this fever and fucking infection Jensen can’t help but feel hopeless. 

“Jared made it through surgery—”

_Coded twice_.

“And that was the big hurdle. There is a lot going for Jared. The bullet wasn’t a larger caliber, it wasn’t jacketed or hollow point so it couldn’t inflict worse damage on the thorax—the chest, rather. It missed his heart. Missed the major arteries and veins.”

_Pericardial sac nicked_

“There is good reason why I’m optimistic, Jensen. I’m not trying to blow smoke up your ass. Jared is not in a vegetative state or a coma, you understand that, right?”

Jensen hadn’t, but now that Doc Morgan has told him that he does feel infinitesimally better.

“He’s unconscious because of the heavy duty drugs they have him on. Soon, Dr. Connell will reduce the dose and Jared will regain consciousness.”

It seems almost too much to hope for that Jared will wake up and be normal.

_Coded twice._

“He…will he…? Brain damage?” The words claw their way up Jensen’s throat and out his mouth. 

“Brain damage happens when the _brain_ is injured, Jensen. Jared’s brain wasn’t injured. He had no blow to the head, no stroke, no swelling or bleeding, anything like that.”

_Coded twice_

“If he does have some impairment it will be because his brain was deprived of oxygen for too long. I doubt that happened; nevertheless, when Jared wakes up his doctors will evaluate him for any damage, but I don’t think it’s cause for concern.”

“H—.” Jensen’s throat closes up. He coughs, forces himself to swallow his fear and push the words out that have been ringing a clarion in his brain. “He coded. Twice.”

JD nods. “I am aware. That was related to his blood loss. They had to get it under control before they could do anything else. He coded again when they were trying to get him hooked up to a Cardiopulmonary bypass machine. They got him back quickly however, and were able to extract the bullet and repair the damage to his lung and pericardial sac. 

“I know you’re scared, Jensen; that’s why Colin got in touch with me. He wants you to understand it’s not really as dark as you’ve been thinking. That guy is worried sick about you, more so than Jared. Worried what this is doing to your mental state. God knows you and Jared are the most codependent couple I’ve ever seen.”

“I’m not leaving him. He never once left me, never gave up on me. When I was down in a pit for ten days he pushed himself to his breaking point and passed it for me. I’ll do the same for him. Even if all I can do for him is sit here.” He sinks deeper into the chair. He’s not leaving. Not until Jared wakes up and tells him it’s okay for him to go. 

“Let me show you something.” JD stands at the foot of Jared’s bed. He untucks the sheet and blanket exposing one of Jared’s big feet. JD pulls out his key ring, selects a key and scratches it along the bottom of Jared’s foot. Jared’s foot jerks.

Jensen feels a happy thrill run through him. He gasps and feels his eyes sting. 

JD turns to Jensen, pocketing his keys. “Comatose people do not respond to any stimuli. If I were to open his eyelid and flash a penlight in his eye, the pupil would respond. If no one has taken the time to properly explain Jared’s condition to you, I apologize. But I think you’re either too tired or too traumatized—yes, you are, don’t argue—to understand what Doc Connell has been telling you. Or she could have shit bedside manner. Either way, I want you to understand Jared isn’t as bad off as you’ve been thinking. That is _your_ trauma presenting itself.

“I’m not going to tell you to sleep or eat. I know that would be pointless, just, try, Jensen, try to pull yourself out of the dark thoughts you’re having.” 

Doc Morgan claps a hand on Jensen’s shoulder and gives a squeeze. Then, he’s gone, the door shutting gently behind him.

He broods on JD’s words. He had come to terms that his life would end soon, now, that hearty jerk of Jared’s foot makes him reevaluate everything. He knows JD is right, Jensen is traumatized. It wouldn’t be the first time.

He doesn’t want to fall into the mode of thinking that things are okay and getting better only to have them deteriorate. He made that mistake after Colin took out the Marchesis. Thought that the war was over, that he and Jared could move on with the next phase of their life, but like an undead villain from a horror movie, the Marchesis had come back to deal one final strike. 

_Jared whirls him around the floor, so effortless, it feels like flying. Ol’ Blue Eyes was really belting it out on the stage, which Jensen thinks is a little odd because Sinatra has been dead since 1998. The sparkle and color of the other party guests blend and blur as Jared guides him in another wide turn. His hand is so warm and a gentle pressure as he holds Jensen. He’s smiling that sexy secretive smile that lets Jensen know he’s thinking very dirty things. He wishes they could sneak away for a bit but soon the cake will come out and Jensen will have to give his stupid speech. After that though…._

_Sinatra holds the last powerful note of the swinging song before the tempo drops. The next song starts, and Jared’s steps slow accordingly. Jensen sighs and lays his head on Jared’s broad shoulder, closing his eyes. He never wants to be anywhere else than where he is right now, in Jared’s arms._

__My love was true, I can’t believe I’m losing you

_There is a crack. Jared makes a soft gasping noise. Jensen lifts his head from Jared’s shoulder. Jared’s eyes are wide in shock or fear, Jensen doesn’t know. Jared slips from Jensen’s arms, falling to the floor. There are screams and shouts happening around him. People are running away, but Sinatra is still singing. Jensen falls to his knees beside Jared. His eyes rake down Jared’s body._

__What can I do, I can't believe I'm losing you __

_Blood. So much blood. It pours from Jared’s chest, spreading in a grotesque bloom staining his pretty aqua blue waistcoat purple. Help. Jensen has to help him. Jared’s gazing up at him pleadingly, eyes so big and scared. He can’t remember ever seeing Jared look as frightened as he does now. He’s making these wet choked gasping noises. He can’t breathe? Jared can’t breathe and he’s bleeding to death!_

_Jensen lifts his head, looking around for help, but the only other person around is a skeletal Frank Sinatra crooning into a microphone._

__We've passed the point of no return __

_Jensen strips off his own shirt. There is a bullet hole in it but his chest is fine. The edges burned with gunpowder. If he was the one who was shot why is Jared the one bleeding? Jensen doesn’t understand. If there are still party guests Jensen doesn’t know, all he can see is the stain of blood on his chest growing bigger and bigger, swallowing the world. Jensen presses his hand to the wound. Oh God. It’s so hot, and there is a sickening wet squelch as he puts pressure against it. Blood oozes between his fingers, coating them red._

__It's still too new, I can't believe I'm losing you __

_There is so much blood. It’s hot and thick. Jensen can’t seem to staunch the flow. He presses harder. His vision blurs and burns with tears. Jared’s a ghostly white but his lips are blue. He can’t breathe, dear god he can’t breathe and the blood is so much it’s the human body shouldn’t have this much blood in it. His hands are coated in it, slippery and scalding. Jared’s eyes flutter. His mouth opens and more blood pours out. Jensen cries out in terror. So much blood too much blood. It won’t stop won’t stop won’t stop._

_“Jared!” Jensen screams._

Jensen jerks awake, a scream poised to escape his mouth. 

“Hey, Mr. Ackles,” Jensen starts realizing he’s not alone in Jared’s room, one of Jared’s day nurses, Lindsey McKeon, is in as well, making notes on Jared’s chart. She is the friendliest and brightest of Jared’s nurses, in her mid to late thirties, dark hair and eyes. “Good to see you got some sleep, although judging by how scared you look, I’d say it wasn’t very restful.” 

“No,” Jensen says and scrubs a hand over his face, trying to shake the terror of his dream, but he can’t. It lives inside him now, very much at home and grows each day. 

“Saw your son come by and visit. He’s a handsome one. Is he single?” Lindsey asks. 

Jensen smiles albeit mechanically. “Married for six years now. Two kids.”

Lindsey sighs dramatically. “Always the way.” She wheels her cart over to Jared’s bedside and notes his vitals. “His temperature is down,” she says smiling at him. “He’s starting to respond to the antibiotics.” She taps away on her tablet. “And Dr. Connell ordered different doses of the pain meds she had him on following the surgery.”

“He’ll wake up?” Jensen asks, scrubbing his face.

She nods. “As soon as the heavy doses work their way out of his system. But the new doses are still pretty powerful, so don’t expect him to turn cartwheels or tap dance.” After she notes Jared’s vitals, she checks and changes the dressing on his surgical incision. 

When Jared had first been moved into this room he had had a tube running from the incision to drain off excess fluid. That had been removed recently. Now, Jared’s incision was covered with gauze and tapes, the dressing not saturated with blood or plasma. Jensen takes that as a good sign. 

Jensen whimpers at the sight of the eight inch line of staples and stitches keeping Jared’s chest closed. 

“It’s not as bad as it looks,” Lindsey says matter of factly. “It’s not red or inflamed, it’s not leaking pus or have an odor. He’s healing very well.” 

Jensen thinks that is a massive understatement considering that chest had been cracked wide open. He feels his eyes sting. Jared will wear that scar for the rest of his life and he has it because of Jensen. 

“Mr. Ackles?” Lindsey says softly, her brown eyes are warm with sympathy as she gazes at him. “You’re overwrought. You need some rest, real rest. I can—” 

“I’m not leaving him,” Jensen cuts her off, glares at her. He is fucking sick of people telling him to rest and go home. If it was Jensen in that bed, Jared would be doing exactly what Jensen is. 

“I know, sir. I was going to suggest a different chair. It will convert into a bed. Not a big or comfortable bed, but you could at least lay down. And you won’t have to leave him.”

Jensen turns it over in his mind quickly. His back is aching like a bastard from sitting, and his ass is numb. The room is not big. The bed and machines take up most of the space. He nods his consent. 

It’s a couple of hours before a burly orderly brings in a worn brown vinyl monstrosity. Jensen stands and helps him position the chair-bed near the foot of Jared’s hospital bed. He demonstrates how the chair converts into a very small narrow bed. It doesn’t look at all comfortable and is way too small for a man Jensen’s size. It will no doubt play merry hell on his back. He thanks the orderly. He shifts his gaze from the makeshift bed and back to Jensen in a way that tells Jensen he knows what Jensen is thinking, before he leaves. 

Jensen stands for a bit, feels good to stretch the muscles in his legs and back, but stays in the room, mostly at Jared’s bedside. Jared’s eyes are moving beneath his lids. Jensen wonders what Jared might be dreaming about. He hopes they are sweet and filled with sun and sand. Tentatively he takes Jared’s hand, careful of the IV ports, though they aren’t hooked up to anything currently. He kisses Jared’s wedding ring then lays it back down gently.

“I’m going to still be here, Jare. Just gonna lie down for a bit.” He feels his exhaustion like a lead weight. “I would never leave you.” He bends and presses a kiss to Jared’s forehead.” Reassured by the warmth—but not too warm—of his skin. He gazes down at Jared, noting the pallor of his skin. It’s not the sickly grey, but not his usual golden tan. More somewhere in the middle. He takes that, and the fact that Jared’s fever is breaking as positive, and allows himself to believe what Doc Morgan told him, that Jared is going to recover.


	5. Chapter 5

Shrill alarms startle Jensen from his light uneasy sleep. He realizes immediately something is wrong. He bolts up from the chair-bed he had folded himself onto and his gaze falls on Jared moving jerky and restless on the bed. Jensen’s first horrifying thought is that Jared’s fever shot back up and he’s having a seizure. A second later he realizes Jared’s eyes are wide open, too lucid and terrified to be feverish. Jensen cannot feel a moment’s happiness that Jared is awake because Jared’s bleeding at the crook of his elbow where he has torn his IVs out and with clumsy fingers he’s clawing at the tube and surgical tape attaching it to his mouth, attempting to remove the breathing tube jammed down his throat. The heart monitor beeps at a frenetic pace. The IV pump alarm sounds. Jensen is terrified Jared is going to tear the incision in his chest wide open. It feels like minutes but in reality is only a few seconds before Jensen is lunging toward Jared. 

“Jared!” He grabs Jared’s hands and pulls them away from his mouth. “Please, stop, okay. You were hurt bad and you’re in the hospital. Calm down for me, okay?” He knows it won’t be long before nurses and CNAs come pouring in. He can hear stirring from the central nursing station. He wants to get Jared calmed down before they do. “I’m okay, Jared. I swear. I’m okay. Please lay still for me. I know you’re scared. But I’m okay.”

Jared’s terrified gaze fixes on Jensen. His eyes mist over, then tears fall from his eyes. Jensen squeezes his hands, careful of the IV port still attached to the back of it. His heart lifts when he feels Jared squeeze back. 

Nurses Lindsey, Julie, and two CNAs rush into the room. Jensen turns to them. “Please, don’t order me to leave. He’s scared and doesn’t know what’s going on. Lindsey, please.”

She turns to the CNAs, “I can handle this,” she says to the CNAs, who depart. To Julie she says. “Page Dr. Connell. I got ‘im.” The red-haired Julie gazes from Jared to Lindsay again before she’s leaving. 

“He’s fighting the ventilator.” Lindsay is glancing at the array of monitors and equipment, understanding things Jensen cannot. “He’s not in respiratory distress. It’s most likely anxiety induced. Get him to calm down or he’ll have to be sedated again.”

Jared’s eyes widen and he shakes his head; he begins to restlessly move on the bed. 

“Jared, please. I know you’re scared and you don’t understand what’s going on, but I’m okay. You are not. Please calm down and lay still. You have to, Jared. You….” he swallows knowing the one thing he can say to bring Jared to heel. “You’re hurting me by doing this.” 

Jared’s terrified eyes shift into guilt and grief. “Just lay still for me. Let the machine help you breathe. It sucks and its uncomfortable but don’t fight anymore. Please.” Jared ceases his agitated shifting. After a few moments the heart monitor slows to a more normal and sedate pace; Jared’s breathing once again syncs up with the ventilator.

“Very good,” Lindsay says standing beside Jensen and giving Jared a smile. “It’s nice to see you wake, Mr. Ackles.”

Jared’s eyes are wary and watchful, shifting from Jensen to Lindsay. 

“This is Lindsey,” Jensen informs. “She takes care of you during the day. Or sometimes it’s the redhead, Julie. Or a nice fella named Demore. He’s bleeding,” Jensen tells Lindsay, pointing to the crook of Jared’s arm.

“He’s torn his catheter out.” She turns off the IV pump, then crosses the room to pluck a pair of gloves from the dispenser. “I’ll clean everything up and get you hooked back up. There are important meds in those IVs that you need.”

“You were shot. Do you remember that?” Jensen asks, squeezing Jared’s hand. 

Jared shakes his head.

“Your lung was injured, that’s why you’re on a ventilator. Let it help you breathe.”

Jared grips Jensen’s with bruising force and his eyes widen in urgency. Jensen feels elated at the strength in it. “I’m okay,” Jensen assures. “Colin, Em, and the kids are all okay, too.” He wants to tell Jared more, but cannot while Lindsay is present. 

He can read the relief in Jared’s eyes.

Lindsay hums cheerily as she efficiently cleans and bandages Jared’s arm. “I just need to get some fresh supplies and you’ll be all fixed up.”

Suddenly Jared stirs, moving as if he wants to get out of bed. 

“Jared. Stop,” Jensen says sternly. If Jared keeps acting out they will sedate him again.

Jared shakes his head, making urgent noises around the tube. He motions frantically to his lower body.

Jensen has a horrifying thought that Jared can’t feel his legs or something. “What? Can you feel your legs?”

Jared nods, but continues motioning to his lower half. He seems to grow agitated with Jensen’s lack of understanding and presses his hand to Jensen’s cock. Heat flushes Jensen’s cheeks. Jared can’t…be horny can he? No, not with those pleading eyes. 

“Bathroom?” Jensen inquires.

Jared nods frantically.

“Mr. Ackles, you have a Foley catheter inserted,” Lindsey says, removing her gloves. “So if you need to urinate, just let go and it’ll take care of itself.” 

Jared makes a whimpering sound, still moving restlessly.

“I know it’s uncomfortable, but I swear you won’t pee yourself, Mr. Ackles,” Lindsey says. “Give me a second and I’ll be right back,” she says and departs.

Jensen pulls up the plastic chair close to Jared’s bed. He glances at the foley bag hanging at the corner of the bed and sees urine filling it. Jared’s eyes dart around the room.

“I think you’ve been here four days,” Jensen sighs. It feels a lot longer than that. “I’m not exactly sure. You were shot in the lung and it collapsed. You need a little help breathing for now.” Jensen states again, proud of how calm he is. “Now that you’re awake I imagine the doc will be in to see you.”

Jared’s brows draw together in question. 

“Not Doc Morgan. He has been by though. Explained things to me. A woman named Ruth Connell is overseeing your care.”

Jared scowls and Jensen understands. He would rather Doc Morgan be in charge as well. They have a long relationship and trust him but he hasn’t actively practiced in several years. Jensen leans close to Jared. 

“Colin got the motherfucker who did this. He is making him pay.”

Jared’s eyes flash with cold delight, and that more than anything else so far reassures Jensen. Jared is okay, he is awake and aware. He is _Jared_. 

It’s roughly an hour later, Jensen and Jared are dozing, holding hands, Jensen resting his head on the edge of Jared’s bed, when Dr. Connell comes in. 

“Heard there was a little excitement in this room today,” she says in her lilting accent that Jensen places as Scottish.

Jensen sits up, his back paining him for a moment. “Jared woke up. He was scared and didn’t know what was going on.”

“Understandable.”

Jensen glances at Jared. His eyes are open but foggy with sleep. “Mr. Ackles, I’m Dr. Connell.”

Jared gives a sleepy nod in acknowledgement. He raises a hand, points to the breathing tube, then gives it the middle finger. Jensen snickers.

“Oh, aye. I imagine it’s not comfortable,” Dr. Connell says. “Your right lung suffered a good deal a trauma, Mr. Ackles. I’m sure your husband filled you in.”

Jared nods, but, again, points to the breathing tube and flashes his middle finger.

“This isn’t like on television, Mr. Ackles. We don’t just rip the tube out, unless you are in some kind of respiratory distress caused by the ventilator. In your case we will wean you off the machine. What will happen is we will do something called an SBT—a spontaneous breathing trial. The ventilator will stop and we will see if you can breathe without its assistance. If you can prove that on a consistent basis, then the ventilator will be stopped and the tube removed, possibly in a day or two. Understand?”

Jared nods, but he doesn’t look happy. 

Jensen is ecstatic. Jared is animated, if a little tired looking. He’s responsive. He has his usual fire and flare. Jensen wants to cry, only this time because he feels happy. Something he had been sure he wouldn’t feel again. 

“Other than the respirator making you uncomfortable, do you have any other complaints?”

Jared’s brows knit as he takes an internal inventory. He points to his stomach and makes eating motions. Jensen feels over the moon. Jared is hungry and wants to eat! 

Dr. Connell chuckles as she puts her stethoscope in her ears. “You’re NPO for the next few days I’m afraid,” she says. “You are getting all the nutrition you need right now in your IVs. I’m going to have a listen here, see how things sound.” She presses the stethoscope to Jared’s right lung. The machine whooshes and Jared’s chest rises. Again. And again. 

“That’s good. No wheezing or leaking. Now, I’ll listen to your heart.” After a few moments she removes the stethoscope. “Good. Nice and strong and regular. On a scale of one to ten, with one being no pain and ten being unbearable, what would you say your pain level is?”

Jared holds up seven fingers, motioning to his bandage covered incision and ribs. 

“Would you like some medicine to help take the level down?”

Jared shakes his head, making a spinning motion with his wrist near his temple. 

“Drugs make him fuzzy-headed. He doesn’t want to feel like that,” Jensen supplies.

“Okay, I’ll put in an order for some, just in case. If you need it, a nurse can give you some, if not, then no worries. I’m going to give your incision a little look-see.” She carefully navigates Jared’s cardiac leads and his breathing tube. Jensen keeps his face impassive as the incision is revealed. He can feel Jared’s eyes on him, watching, cataloguing. If Jensen gets upset in any way at the sight, Jared will in turn get upset. 

“Very nice,” she comments. “You are healing very well, Mr. Ackles. You keep this up and you’ll be out of here soon.”

Jared points to Jensen, makes an all-encompassing gesture with his hand. 

“I’d say he needs some good rest, a decent meal, and a shower,” Dr. Connell says. “He hasn’t left since you were brought in.”

Jared’s brows draw together in a scowl. He points to Jensen, then the door of the room. 

Jensen understands. Jared wants him to leave. Jensen’s stomach twists with fear and anxiety at the thought of leaving him, even if he can _see_ Jared is doing well. The idea he could take a turn haunts Jensen.

“I’d say that is a good idea,” Dr. Connell says. “Your husband is coming along very nicely; you however look much the worse for wear.”

Jensen scowls at her. This isn’t her business. She seems to read him well, and excuses herself. When she is gone Jensen argues immediately. “I can’t leave while you’re still on that machine.”

Jared’s scowl deepens. He once more points to Jensen then to the room door, clearly ordering Jensen out, more emphatically this time. 

“Jared, please.”

Jared points to himself, and shuts his eyes, then waves a dismissive hand. 

“I don’t care that all you’re going to do is be sleeping. I need to be here with you.”

Jared grows increasingly more agitated, making sounds around the breathing tube and still pointing to Jensen and the door. 

Not wanting to upset or cause Jared more distress, Jensen eventually relents. “Okay, I’ll have Colin come get me. Are you sure you feel okay?”

Jared nods, then closes his eyes briefly, miming being asleep. “Okay,” Jensen says. “I’ll go. You want visitors when I come back?”

Jared shakes his head, indicates the breathing tube, and mimes talking with his hand. Jensen gets it. He wants to be able to talk to people. 

Jensen bends and presses a lingering kiss to Jared’s forehead. Jared winks and shoos Jensen toward the door. Jensen, finally, reluctantly leaves.

He sleeps for eighteen hours straight. Jensen cannot believe he slept that fucking long. He had only intended to sleep maybe a couple hours. Now, he can’t believe he’s being held hostage by his daughter-in-law. Emma will not let him leave the main house and return back to the hospital until he showers, shaves, puts on clean clothes, and eats a whole meal.

“He is fine, Jensen,” she states standing in front of the bedroom door, stern look on her pretty face, arms crossed over her breasts. “Colin is with him now. He says Jared is awake, annoyed with the breathing tube, but communicating with him by writing notes. They are even watching an old Jimmy Cagney movie. He is _fine_.”

“Emma,” Jensen growls, attempting to get past her. 

“Jen- _sen_ ,” she enunciates, putting her hands on her hips and glaring up at him. “Take a shower, shave, dress, then come down to the kitchen.” She pats his head. Actually pats the top of his head like he is a dog or something.

If she wasn’t the mother of his little grandbabies, and if he didn’t love her so much, he’d be mad. Still, he knows when a battle cannot be won and this is one of those times. He gives her his most intimidating scowl then turns and charges into the ensuite.

In the shower, with the hot water pounding down on his back, loosening his muscles, Jensen scrubs away the grime and some of his angst, drifting. He closes his eyes and imagines him and Jared on their island. He loses track of time imagining Jared snorkeling, himself fishing on his new yacht, the gulls calling, the rustle of the palms in the warm salt-scented breeze. After days of oppressing worry and black thoughts he could finally start thinking about something else. 

He feels pretty good coming out of the shower. He shaves, styles his hair, and puts on Jared’s favorite cologne. When he exits the ensuite, towel around his hips, he notices that Emma has laid out a slim-fit Givenchy suit in a deep shade of teal blue, white shirt, black tie, and pair of Gucci shoes polished to a mirror shine for him. There are also blue diamond cufflinks, a matching tie pin, and his rose gold Patek Philippe watch with the blue dial. He feels a little grumpy about having his clothes and accessories chosen for him. He is not one of her children. He is fifty-eight and perfectly capable of choosing his clothes himself, but…. He has to admit the ensemble she has chosen is very attractive. He shrugs and dresses, then heads down to the kitchen. Emma is laughing with Ms. Gumenick. The two women have their heads together looking at something on Emma’s phone. Probably pictures of Meggie or Jaysen. 

“Hello, Mr. Ackles, wonderful news about the other Mr. Ackles. I have a nice lunch for you right here, sir.” 

Jensen glances at the clock and sees that it is a quarter ‘til one. He sits in the breakfast nook and eyes the lovely club sandwich on lightly toasted rye, potato salad, some cut up fruit, and coffee. “Looks great, Ms. Gumenick.”

Emma joins him at the breakfast nook with a cup of coffee and a cherry Danish. 

“They’re really watching a movie?” Jensen says lifting a sandwich half, ready to tear into it.

Emma smiles. “Yeah, _White Heat_.”

That movie is a favorite of Jared’s; he adores the unhinged maniacal performance Cagney puts on, often quoting lines along with the actors. Jensen takes a big healthy bite of the sandwich. Thick turkey, crispy bacon, fresh lettuce and tomato and creamy mayo burst across his tongue making his appetite seem to double or triple. He tears off another big bite before the first is barely swallowed. 

“Colin even said they are talking about removing the breathing tube tomorrow. Jared’s doing well breathing unassisted. I know you’ve been scared. I don’t know how I would act in the same position, but that’s behind you two now.”

Having finished off his first sandwich half, he tackles the second half, albeit at a more sedate pace. “It could be you, you know. Sometime.”

“I know,” she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. She nibbles on her pastry. “Before I married Colin, I had to decide if I could live with that threat or not. Believe me, it wasn’t easy. I even broke things off with him for a while.” She goes quiet, eyes hazy with memory. She sighs and gives herself a little shake to bring herself back to the present. “When we were apart everything was a little more drab. Colin brings color to my world, but more than that, I felt empty without him; like something was missing. So, I decided to accept the risk of dating, then marrying a mob boss. And in a way, it’s given me a strength I didn’t know I had.

“I know Colin will do everything in his power to protect me and the kids. Everything he has given me: love, understanding, security, a home, a family, two children—shit, even all the money, clothes, and accessories— outweigh the bad. He’s the only man I want, would ever want.”

Jensen knows exactly how she feels because that is how he feels about Jared. “I didn’t know you and Colin ever broke up,” Jensen says, spooning into the potato salad. “He doesn’t talk about his private life to any extent.” And Jensen wouldn’t ask, unless Colin seemed in distress. 

“I know. People call him Stone-Cold Colin but that’s not the man I know. That’s not the man who plays with our children, or takes me to bed. I know that part of him exists; I’ve even seen it, but it’s not all he is.”

“He’s like his father that way.”

Emma reaches out and takes Jensen’s hand, giving a squeeze. “Like _both_ of them.”

Jared is taken off the ventilator and the breathing tube removed after three days. His oxygen saturation isn’t where it should be and is given a nasal cannula and supplemental oxygen.

The first word he says once the tube is removed is “Jense?” His voice sounds choked in mud but it is the sweetest, best sound Jensen has ever heard. “Are you okay?”

“Yes,” Jensen states, feeling the sting of tears in his eyes and tasting them in his throat. 

After the nurses and other personnel leave and they are alone Jensen asks, “How are you really feeling?”

Jared shrugs. “Tired, and my chest fucking hurts no matter how I move. I have some low dose pain meds to help, but hate the way they make me feel foggy. I was pretty fucked, huh? Had to crack me open, the way I hear it.”

Hearing Jared state what had happened so glibly ignites something inside Jensen. “It’s not funny, Jared. I spent fucking days thinking you were gonna _die.” And preparing to kill myself…but could I really have gone through with it?_

Jared looks immediately abashed. He reaches out and takes Jensen’s hand, giving it a squeeze. “I’m sorry, baby. But it’s over now. Breathing all by myself, and everything.” He brings Jensen’s hand to his mouth and brushes his lips across Jensen’s knuckles. 

Jensen’s insensate terror had been akin to a black hole and it had nearly swallowed him and now Jared was so dismissive of it all. Jensen erupts. “I was fucking traumatized!” Jensen wrenches his hand from Jared, suddenly overwhelmed by everything he’s endured the last week. He shoots up from the chair and prowls the room. 

“You were fucking shot! And the bullet you took was meant for me!” Jensen begins to cry then, tears hot as they spill from his eyes and down his cheeks. “For me! If you’d died….” Jensen’s voice breaks and he swallows the rest of his thought. _I’d have to follow and I don’t know if I could. How could I do that to Colin, or Emma and the kids?_

Losing Jared would have been hard on the entire family, but to compound the hurt by ending his life as well? Could he be that cruel? Inflict that on them? He remembers Colin’s words. ‘Jared’s not the only one that loves and needs you.’

No. He couldn’t have and the realization fills him with shame.

He knows Jared loves Colin, Em, and their grandkids, but Jared truly _lives_ only for Jensen. If the roles had been reversed, if the shooter had hit Jensen, and Jensen had been killed, Jared would not have balked at ending his life. And yet Jensen knew he could not have done the same. He has never before felt as unworthy of Jared’s unwavering, unquestioning, love and devotion until now. 

“I’d fucking do it again, Jensen. And again,” Jared says fiercely. “Without a moment’s hesitation. You are my fucking _life_. I can’t do without you. I think the reason you’re so upset is because somewhere deep inside you, you know you _can_ do without me.” 

Jensen leans back against the wall but his legs can’t hold him up and he slides down. He hides his face in his hands. Jared proves once again that he knows Jensen, knows him better than anyone, even Jensen himself. His razor sharp knowledge cuts to the heart of Jensen’s angst, only as Jensen himself was beginning to realize the source of some of his pain. 

The heart monitor begins to flatline and Jensen’s head jerks up. His relief is instant when he realizes Jared has torn off the cardiac leads and is climbing out of bed, attempting to get to him. He gets both feet on the floor, and the shrill beep of the bed alarm adds its voice to the din. Jared grips his IV pole and carefully steps toward Jensen.

Jared is not wearing those grippy-bottomed hospital socks and Jensen is scared Jared is going to fall and hurt himself. He pushes to his feet and meets him, tucking an arm around his waist to help him support his weight. “Jared, you should not be out of bed. You might hurt yourself.”

Jared wipes Jensen’s tears away. “‘Course I should. You’re the one hurting, and there’s no reason for you to. Don’t feel guilty, Jensen. I know you don’t love me any less than I love you. You’re just better adjusted. I’ve always known that.” He dips his head and kisses Jensen softly.

“Mr. Ackles?” Jared’s new nurse, a petite blonde, comes into the room. “Is everything okay?”

“Husband was having a mini freak out. Had to get to him.” Jared shrugs and flashes that charming dimpled smile. 

She shakes her head but turns off the bed alarm and silences the heart monitor. “If the crisis has been solved would you kindly return to your bed?”

Jensen helps Jared back to the bed and settles him in, puffing the flat pillows and needlessly tucking the sheets and blanket around him, turning Jared’s words over. They were a balm on his hurting heart and exactly what he needed to hear. The nurse, a no-nonsense woman named Katie according to her nametag, hooks Jared back up to the heart monitor. 

“Do I really need this? I don’t like what’s left of my very manly chest hair being ripped out,” Jared grouses.

Katie removes Jared’s bandage and examines the incision. Jensen gazes at Jared’s chest, noticing that yes, he has been shaved around the vicinity of his wound. With the veil of fear and anxiety lifted, Jensen can see, Jared is indeed healing well. The incision is a little red but the stitches and staples are neat and there is no ominous inflammation, or oozing. It’s not at all the Frankensteinian horror he had first thought. 

Katie smiles. “Your injury also affected your heart as well as your lung, so, until Dr. Connell changes the order, yes, you do.” She applies new electrodes, and cleans and dresses Jared’s incision. “Is there anything else you need?”

“I’m good,” Jared says flashing another of those dimpled smiles. 

Jensen wonders if he will ever be able to look at the scar Jared will carry for the rest of his life and not feel guilty. He has it because of Jensen. 

“Jense,” Jared says sounding stern. “Don’t. I’m happy to have it if it means you’re still here.”

Something inside Jensen cracks open and he lays his head on Jared’s hip and cries softly. Jared laces his fingers through Jensen’s hair and makes soothing crooning noises while Jensen finally releases the fear, anxiety, guilt, and sadness he has carried with him for days. After ten, or fifteen minutes he raises his head. Jared is gazing at him, eyes warm with understanding, and overflowing with love.

“Listen, Jense, I don’t expect and would never want you to off yourself because of me. I’d want you to live your life to the fullest. Live it for _both_ of us. Okay?”

Jensen sniffs, clears his throat, regains control. “Yeah.” Jensen scrubs his face. “Do you remember much?”

“Not much. I remember Emma wanting to wear a god awful chartreuse dress.” Jared visibly shudders in revulsion. “But after that it’s blank. Colin filled me in when he was here. He says he and his guys got ‘em. Wish I could get a piece.” 

“We’re retired, Jared. And we’re gonna stay that way.”

Jared grins. “Spoil sport.”

Following the removal of the breathing tube Jared was relocated from the ICU to a regular private room on the sixth floor. Jared will not allow Jensen to spend 24/7 with him, arguing vehemently that he cannot rest unless he knows Jensen is getting some rest and caring for himself. Jensen cannot argue with that. So he, Colin, or Tommy Blue and Mike, rotate to keep Jared company, but Jensen is always relieved when he gets to be with Jared again.

Jensen hears laughter coming from Jared’s room as he walks down the hallway, nodding to the nurses at the nursing station. Colin, Emma and the kids were visiting Jared this morning. Jensen enters Jared’s room, and his heart warms at the sight. Jaysen, with a book open, is on the bed with Jared, tucked up to his right side, and Meggie is on his left. They seem to be playing a game on a tablet while Jaysen reads to them. Jared looks better and better each time Jensen sees him, more of his color returning and the dark hollows under his eyes fading, and his energy coming back. Dr. Connell was talking about releasing Jared in a day or two, and Jensen was ecstatic. 

“Hi, Gran’pa,” Jaysen greets flashing a big smile with a couple of missing teeth. Jaysen favors his mother in looks, from the blond hair to the blue-grey eyes. 

“Gan’pa!” Meggie says bouncing a little. 

Jensen catches the way Jared winces at the movement but doesn’t admonish the little girl and she settles back down quickly as Jensen takes a seat to the left of the bed. Jensen looks down at Meggie; Jared’s genes are strong in her, from her blue-green almond shaped eyes, to the thick brown hair, and she, unlike her brother, has dimples. 

“Gran’pa Jay says he’s not a robot,” Jaysen says. “Even if he does have wires stuck to him.”

“Nope, sorry, buddy. It’s all boring medical stuff. Would be cool to be a robot though, but like the T-1000 from that old movie.” Jensen grins, of course Jared would want to be a _literal_ killing machine. Jaysen however, only five, doesn’t understand the reference and goes back to his book.

“What are you three doing?” Jensen asks. 

“I’m readin’ to Gran’pa.” Jaysen holds up his book, _The Sneetches_ , by Dr. Suess.

“Play’n fishies!” Meggie chirps up, poking at the tablet propped up on the over-bed table. “Dammit!” She huffs when she appears to lose. Jared and Jensen stifled their laughs. 

“Megan, we do not talk that way,” Emma admonishes the fiery little girl.

“Gan’pa Jay does.” She turns her big doe eyes to Jared. 

“I’m an old man, honey,” Jared says gazing down at her with softness and warmth and that familiar mischievous glint in his eyes. “When you get old you can say whatever the hell you want, too.”

Colin faceplams and Emma rolls her eyes. “Jared, don’t encourage her,” Emma says.

Jensen grins. That little girl was gonna be trouble when she got older. Jensen continues watching Jared play whatever game is going on the tablet, and listens to Jaysen read. He thinks about how very different things could have been if Jared hadn’t survived. Jensen would have been broken, his heart a torn and gaping hole inside him. He would have had Colin, Emma, and the grandkids to help mend it, but it would have been a wound that would always weep and never heal. 

Jared laughs at something Meggie whispers to him, and Jensen lets the what-ifs go. Jared is here, alive and healing, and better days were ahead for both of them.


	6. Epilogue

_Ohne dich kann ich nicht sein_

Once Jared and Jensen reached their nineties, Colin insisted they move to some other island, preferably one with access to immediate healthcare. Though his fathers were still in good health even at their advanced ages, ninety was still ninety. He would rather they move back to the mainland United States, but compromised when they moved to Jamaica. 

Colin had been a widower for four years. Jaysen had taken over running Ackles Enterprises, and Megan had taken over the Organization from Colin. They always got together for major holidays and birthdays. Colin usually visits on their anniversary.

In 2072, Colin traveled to Kingston to visit his parents for their sixty-seventh anniversary, and give them his customary gift of an excellent bottle of scotch. They had a small bungalow near the beach, still happy beach bums at ninety-two and eighty-eight. When he entered their home, he discovered their entwined bodies on their bed. The medical examiner estimated Jensen passed away between four fifteen and four thirty. Jared’s estimated time of death was around four thirty and five. Both appeared to suffer cardiac incidents. 

The fact they had died peacefully within minutes of the other gave Colin solace. It was exactly what both men would have wanted. They couldn’t live without each other.


End file.
